Love Me Bitterly, Loathe Me Sweetly
by Sariniste
Summary: Bad-boy Ichigo Kurosaki doesn't return Orihime's crush, so she decides to date someone safer: a harmless nerd in her math class named Sousuke Aizen. Little does she know what she's getting into. AU. Prequel to Triangle of Immortality. AiHime. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**A/N:** AU AiHime prequel to _**Triangle of Immortality**_, focusing on Orihime's experience in high school that is hinted at in that story.

This story was formerly titled **_Senior Year at Karakura High_**, but was renamed in March 2013.

**Disclaimer:** Bleach is owned by Tite Kubo. All main characters in this story are 18 years or older.

(Originally posted 11/29/2010.)

XxXxXxX

It was an unseasonably warm late fall day at Karakura High School. The sunny courtyard was filled with students eating lunch. At one of the metal tables sat three girls, talking and gesturing with animation. The first girl, with short, spiky black hair and a lean, boyish frame, was frowning at the second, who had waist-length auburn hair and a curvaceous figure and was smiling shyly. The third girl, with red hair and red glasses, looked on skeptically. As they talked, a scowling orange-haired youth strode past their table without a backwards glance.

Tatsuki watched as Orihime's eyes turned to follow the young man, her sandwich forgotten in her lap. She suddenly reached across the table and punched her friend in the face.

"Hey!" Orihime said, rubbing her chin and turning to glare at Tatsuki. "What'd you do that for?"

Tatsuki frowned at her. "Don't tell me you still have that crush on Ichigo Kurosaki," she said. "That delinquent isn't worth your time."

"He's not a delinquent," protested Orihime, still looking after the young man as she rubbed her face. "Besides, I thought he was your friend."

"He _is_ my friend. I'm just angry at him for being so clueless about you."

"Didn't he get suspended for fighting a couple of weeks ago?" asked Chizuru with a smug smile. "I haven't seen any _girls _get suspended for fighting in this school."

"That's just because_ you've_ gotten away with it," grumbled Tatsuki.

"You too!" Chizuru leered at the black-haired girl.

Orihime was not paying attention to her friends' bickering. "Isn't he cute, though?" she sighed.

Chizuru frowned. "How can you say that with all these luscious girls around? For example—"

Before she could continue, she was stopped by another punch in the face from Tatsuki. "You pervert! Just because you like girls is no reason for Orihime to!"

"Hey!" said Chizuru. "I was coming in on your side, trying to help Hime get over her stupid crush." She glared at Tatsuki.

"No, I was thinking Orihime could find another _guy_ to like. Someone with a better reputation than Kurosaki." Tatsuki stopped to scan the lunchtime crowd. "Someone like…" She spotted a brown-haired youth in glasses emerge from the crowd, trailed by a slender, silver-haired boy and a dark-skinned young man with his hair tied back in cornrows. "Like Sousuke Aizen… senior class president, straight-A student, member of the chess club. Now there's an upstanding citizen for you." She grinned at Orihime. "And he's awfully cute too."

Orihime and Chizuru scrutinized Aizen as he walked across the courtyard. "Mmm," said Chizuru. "If he were a girl he'd be worth chasing." She got a gleam in her eye. "Can't you imagine him in a dress, with long hair…? Dreamy!"

Orihime sighed. "I don't know. He _is _good-looking, but… there's just something missing there. Not like Kurosaki-kun."

"Yeah," said Tatsuki, grinning. "She misses that bad-boy spark she sees in Kurosaki." She jumped up quickly to avoid Orihime's wild swing.

"Besides," said Orihime, "I doubt he even knows I exist." She bent over her sandwich again.

"What?" asked Chizuru in mock surprise. "Doesn't know the idol of Karakura High exists? I don't think so, Hime. Everyone knows about you."

Orihime blushed red to the roots of her hair and concentrated on her lunch.

"Yeah," grinned Tatsuki. "Did you see that cell phone picture of her that was making the rounds the other day? She looked hot!"

Chizuru made an exaggerated "O" with her mouth and shook her hand as if she'd been burned. "Hot is right, Hime!" She grinned at her auburn-haired friend, who was focusing on her lunch as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"Anyway," said Tatsuki. "I just think you should broaden your horizons, Orihime. You've had that crush on Kurosaki forever. And tell me, has he ever indicated any kind of interest?" She peered closely at Orihime, who looked sad. "Really, you could have anyone. I think you should give it a try, Orihime. It's just dating; it's not a permanent thing. Hey, who knows? Maybe it would make Kurosaki jealous," she said with a grin.

Orihime managed a weak grin in return.

XxXxXxX

Later that day in honors calculus class, Orihime glanced at Aizen, who was sitting on the other side of the room. He was working on a problem intently, his gaze focused on his paper, his pencil flying over his work. His brown hair flopped over his glasses. He looked every inch the studious honor student. Orihime frowned. The two of them had been competing for the top spot in the advanced class ever since she could remember. For some reason, though, something had always felt off to her about Aizen. He just seemed to be too perfect a stereotype. The nerdy glasses, the intellectual air… he was too quiet, faded too much into the background.

Of course, since he had been elected class president, there had been the inevitable jealous whispers. "The teachers stuffed the ballot box because they didn't want someone with more suspensions than honors credits to win." It was no secret that Kurosaki was not popular with the administration, although the opposite was true among the students. Many students had been surprised that Aizen had won the election, since the brown-haired youth was so quiet and not nearly as notorious as Kurosaki. They had not even expected him to run.

Orihime knew better. She knew that beneath Aizen's quiet, intellectual exterior lay a burning ambition. She had never seen anyone so competitive, so driven to win at any cost. She was used to boys getting upset when she outscored them in math and science. Girls weren't supposed to do that. But with Aizen it was something different. He had always been outwardly polite, but… She frowned to herself. There was something she couldn't put her finger on. Last year, she could tell that he had hated it when the two of them had both been getting perfect scores all year in math class. He had actually told the teacher that she needed to make the tests harder. Orihime shook her head. She couldn't imagine a student actually saying that to a teacher. When Orihime kept up even with the more challenging tests, Aizen had seemed to brood. He hadn't been happy until the end of the year, when Orihime had broken her arm in a freak accident just before the final, and had to take a make-up final without the opportunity for extra credit.

Aizen had secured the top spot, and she remembered seeing his face at the end of school ceremony. He had flashed her the oddest look, a look almost of triumph. Very strange. Remembering it, she frowned again. It had been the look of someone whose carefully laid plans had come to fruition. But how could that be? No one could have predicted the strange accident that had befallen her that day.

As if he had become aware of her thoughts and attention on him, Aizen slowly raised his head and looked at her with an amused expression that she could not fully read behind his glasses. She reddened and bent her head to her own work, embarrassed at being caught staring at him.

XxXxXxX

The next day after math class, Aizen gave her a shy smile as she was leaving the classroom and fell into step beside her. She glanced at him sidelong but didn't say anything.

"Inoue. May I ask you something?" His voice was quiet and polite.

She looked at him, feeling unaccountably nervous, and nodded.

"I was wondering if you'd like to get together after school to study. I've been looking for a homework partner in math."

She looked at him, unable to hide the disbelief on her face. Why would he want a homework partner? He was already the top student in the school. "Um, I'm sure I couldn't help you any, Aizen-san."

He was gracious. "I think we could learn from each other, but very well. Perhaps some other time?" He smiled at her.

She could only mutter in confusion, "Sure. Some other time."

He smiled at her with just a hint of sadness in his eyes and walked away. She looked after him, remembering the gentle expression on his face, and how sad his eyes were behind his glasses. She had seen his eyes close up for the first time. They were a deep, rich brown, the color of chocolate. She had always thought he was cute, but seeing him from that distance made her realize how attractive he was, how there was almost a magnetic quality about him, some energy that went beyond the physical that seemed to surround him like an aura.

She shook her head. It wasn't like he appealed to her the same way Kurosaki did. Although, she thought as she sighed, Kurosaki never seemed to notice her. She hurried to her locker, not noticing the exchanged glances and whispered comments as she strode down the hall.

Tatsuki was waiting for her at her locker, grinning. "Hey," she said. "I saw Aizen-san speaking to you in the hallway. What did he want?"

"Oh, nothing," Orihime said, twirling her combination lock and trying to look nonchalant. "He just wanted to do some homework together, so I said no, because he certainly doesn't need any help, being the top student in the school." She stopped to take a breath and then babbled on. "I mean, if he wanted to learn how to cook, I could show him some of the dishes I've made— ow!" She glared at her friend, who had just hit her on the head with a physics textbook.

"You idiot!" said Tatsuki. "He was asking you out, silly, not trying to get help on his homework!"

"Ow!" said Orihime again, wishing advice from her friend was less painful. "How should I know? Everyone else who's asked me out wanted to go to dinner or a movie."

Tatsuki's face was stern. "Next time," she said, "you say yes, understood?"

Orihime sighed. "Why doesn't Kurosaki-kun ask me to help him with his homework?"

Her friend rolled her eyes. "Get over him, already! If he wanted to ask you out, he would have said something."

"Well, I know he hasn't asked anyone else out, so maybe he's just…" She paused to think of the right word. "Hesitant."

Tatsuki sighed. "Orihime. He's been _hesitating_ for four years, ever since you first got interested in him… back when you had to go to his dad's clinic after that accident. At this rate, his _hesitation _is going to last until you're an old lady." She grabbed Orihime and shook her. "You need to go out with someone else!"

"S- S- Stop it!" cried Orihime, her teeth rattling. "I'll think about it, okay?" She grabbed her books and hurried off to her next class.

XxXxXxX

"Hey." Orihime looked up from her locker at the greeting. Aizen was standing beside her, his arms full of books, smiling. It had been a week since he had spoken to her. "Wakatsuki-sensei would like to start a math club. She's asked me to be president, and I was wondering if you'd be interested in joining."

Their calculus teacher was starting a math club? Orihime was slightly surprised, as their school had never had a math club before.

"Uh, what would we have to do?"

Aizen stepped closer to her, fixing his brown eyes on her face. "Oh, attend math contests, study interesting problems together, you know… that sort of thing." His voice was soft, but somehow Orihime was swept by the sudden desire to hear him continue speaking.

She looked up at him with a polite smile. "Sure! It sounds… very educational."

He smiled at her in return. "That's good," he said in his deep, gentle voice. He slipped a book out of the pile he was carrying and showed it to her. "I just found this book of old math contests. Would you like to try solving some problems together tomorrow after school?"

Orihime gaped at Aizen. She couldn't believe he was asking her out to solve math problems together. Was he truly so clueless? In that case, he must be a harmless nerd, and it would be a perfectly innocent "date."

She smiled at him and said, "Yes."

Aizen's face lit up with ingenuous delight. "Let's meet in room 325 then, right after school."

Orihime watched him as he walked away. That wasn't so bad. She realized that she had been apprehensive about going out with Aizen for some reason. But now she realized he was too mild-mannered to be afraid of. Someone like him, harmless and safe, would be a good person to go out with on a first date. Probably better than the fierce Kurosaki, who could really get her into trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**A/N:** Although I'm going to keep the Japanese names and honorifics, I'm going to assume this high school is somewhere in the United States.

This story will not be completely consistent as a prequel to_ Triangle of Immortality _in terms of characters. In other words, the Grimmjow who appears in this story is not necessarily the same one who appears in _Triangle_.

(Originally posted 12/11/2010.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime was late for lunch with her friends. She ran through the crowded school corridors, rapidly threading her way around the knots of chattering students. As she rounded a corner near the exit to the courtyard, she crashed directly into another student standing there.

"Ow!" she yelped as the breath was knocked out of her. Her books scattered to the floor. Gasping, she looked up at the tall, lanky student she had cannoned into and immediately began to apologize. "Oh! I'm so sorry!"

The thin senior with an eye patch and stringy black hair glared at her. "Watch where you're going next time, bitch!" He folded his arms in anger and kicked a couple of her books viciously as he stomped away.

"Hey!" said Orihime, angry too now. "It was an accident, and I said I was sorry!" she shouted at his back. Sighing, she began gathering up her books. One had been kicked so hard its binding had split. She was going to have to tape it back together. She hoped the school wouldn't charge her for it; money had been especially tight recently. She examined the ground nearby one more time to make sure she had everything, and then pushed open the door to the courtyard, moving more carefully this time.

It was a beautiful late fall day; the air was crisp, cool, and dry. The leaves on the oak trees in the courtyard were bright yellow, fading to brown. More brown leaves crunched underfoot on the asphalt, filling the air with their spicy scent. Orihime breathed it in gratefully.

Tatsuki and Chizuru were watching her as she came up to their table and sat down.

"Whew," she said, as she plumped down on the metal seat.

"I saw that collision," Tatsuki said as she sat down. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Orihime assured her. She brushed her hair out of her face. "But that Nnoitra Jiruga is a jerk! He kicked my books even after I apologized for running into him."

Tatsuki's face darkened. "Orihime, you should watch out for him. He has a really bad reputation."

"Hey, it's not like I planned to run into him!" Orihime protested. "It was an accident."

"Yeah," Chizuru said, "Haven't you heard? He's a member of Hueco Mundo."

"A member of what?" asked Orihime, rooting around in her backpack for her lunch.

Tatsuki rolled her eyes. "You really are an innocent, Orihime. Don't you know about the Hueco Mundo gang?" She lowered her voice. "They're the biggest gang in the school. They control most of the drug sales around the neighborhood. And who knows what other crimes they're into."

"Yeah," Chizuru said. "At my uncle's shop down the street, he has to pay them a monthly fee so the store doesn't get robbed." She bent her head closer to her friends', her eyes gleaming with the anticipation of someone who is about to share a particularly juicy piece of gossip. "And they say that all the most important gang members have numbered tattoos somewhere on their body, giving their rank in the organization."

"What?" said Orihime. "That's pretty weird."

"Yes," Chizuru continued, her eyes bright with excitement. "Watch the next time Nnoitra opens his mouth. You'll see a '5' on his tongue."

"Eww," said Orihime, wrinkling her nose. "That's gross."

Tatsuki shook her head as well. "Stop it, Chizuru."

Undeterred, Chizuru whispered, "Membership is supposed to be secret, but some of these guys like to brag about it. That's why Nnoitra has his gang tattoo on his tongue, so he can show off. But the only thing no one knows is the identity of their leader."

The black-haired girl said, "Chizuru, stop spreading rumors. You're scaring Orihime."

Chizuru shook her head. "All of this is completely true, I swear. I heard it from a girl who dated one of their members. She told me not to tell anyone on pain of death!" she whispered in a dramatic voice.

Tatsuki rolled her eyes, but Orihime looked fascinated.

"They call him 'the Captain,'" the redhead whispered, "and they say he's been running the gang since he was twelve years old… they say that even though he's only a high school student, he's already lost count of the number of people he's ordered killed." She narrowed her eyes salaciously as she imparted this bit of scandal.

Orihime asked in an incredulous tone, "And this is a student in _our_ high school?" She shivered.

Chizuru nodded solemnly. "Lots of the students in this school are members. You'd be surprised."

Orihime suddenly looked stricken as a thought occurred to her. "Tatsuki," she whispered, turning her head to gaze wide-eyed at the black-haired girl, "Kurosaki-kun isn't…" Her voice trailed off.

Tatsuki shook her head violently. "Of course not! He wouldn't be involved in anything like that. Don't worry about it, Orihime! I'm his friend and I would know."

The other girl gave an audible sigh of relief, and began to dig in her lunch bag. Pulling out a ham-and-cheese sandwich, she bit into it eagerly. "Oh, I'm so hungry today!"

"You're always hungry," retorted Tatsuki.

Orihime waved her sandwich at her friend, scattering bits of ham and breadcrumbs on the table. "That's not true!" she insisted.

"Can you remember the last time you weren't hungry?" the other girl asked.

Orihime put her head on one side, considering. "Well," she said, "there was this one time Sora took me to an all-you-can-eat buffet…"

The other two girls looked up at someone approaching from behind her. Tatsuki turned her head back to Orihime for a moment and dropped one eyelid in a brief wink. Orihime twisted in her seat and saw Aizen walking toward them with his graceful stride, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He was dressed casually in a black cotton shirt and jeans, his tousled bangs falling over his black glasses.

"Good afternoon, Inoue-san," he said in his soft, deep voice. His expression was gentle, his full lips curving into a small smile at the sight of her.

"Oh, good afternoon, Aizen-san," Orihime stuttered, blushing. She turned to face him fully, hoping the heat in her cheeks was not obviously visible. Seeing him close by, again, she was struck by how beautiful his face was, even behind the glasses. The curve of his throat above the open neck of his shirt was entrancing, and she had to tear her eyes away from it, telling herself it was rude to stare.

After a long beat gazing at her in return, his eyes flicked upwards to the other girls. He nodded politely at Tatsuki and Chizuru. "Arisawa-san, Honshou-san." They ducked their heads and muttered in return.

He looked back at Orihime. "I hope you haven't forgotten that we're meeting in room 325 this afternoon for the math club," he said.

"Uh, no, no, of course not!" Orihime said. "I'm, uh, looking forward to it!" She gave him a bright smile and he returned it with a gentle one.

"See you then." He moved off, and Orihime found herself staring at him as he walked away, watching how his legs moved beneath the close-fitting designer jeans.

Tatsuki waved her hand in front of Orihime's eyes, breaking her gaze. She turned back to look at her friend, who was grinning broadly. "So you do like him after all," she said.

Orihime shrugged, ignoring the heat rising in her cheeks, taking another bite of her forgotten sandwich. Tatsuki was scrutinizing her face. "Don't you think he's hot?" she asked.

Chizuru sniffed, her nose in the air.

Orihime smiled, her eyes on her sandwich. "Well," she said softly, "yeah."

"And he likes you."

"We're just going to do math together," Orihime protested. "That doesn't mean he likes me."

Tatsuki gave her a knowing smile. "He likes you."

XxXxXxX

After school that day, she dropped her books off in her locker and then climbed the two flights of stairs to room 325. It was a small classroom toward the back of the school, overlooking a gas station and a row of auto body shops, and she had never been in that wing of the building before. She pushed open the door to find it still empty, so she sat down at one of the desks to wait.

She heard a murmuring in the hall outside the room and then saw the shadows of two people moving off through the pebbled glass pane of the door. A moment later, Aizen entered the classroom. He gave her a warm smile as the light from the windows glinted off one of the lenses of his glasses.

"Hello, Inoue-san. I hope I'm not late."

"Oh, no, you're right on time. I was a little early."

He sat down in the desk next to her and slid the two desks closer together. Orihime could feel her heart pounding as their shoulders brushed. He placed his backpack on the floor, and Orihime noticed how long his fingers were as he pulled out the math book he had shown her earlier. She peeked out of the corner of her eyes at his perfect profile, his slender, graceful hands paging through the book as he searched for the particular problem set he wanted to discuss.

How strange it was that he was suddenly showing an interest in her now – if that was indeed what he was doing. He was so competitive; maybe he was just looking for someone to help him win math contests. No doubt being president of a math team that won prizes would look good on his college applications. Orihime found that she was suddenly disappointed as she followed that train of thought.

"You and your friends looked like you were having a fairly intense conversation at lunch," he commented as he found the page he was looking for in the book and pressed it open at the binding.

"Oh, not really," she said. "They were just talking about gangs in our high school."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh really? That's an odd topic of conversation."

Orihime gave an embarrassed laugh. "Well, I had just accidentally crashed into Nnoitra Jiruga and spilled my books all over the floor, and they were warning me about him."

Aizen nodded in understanding, his face relaxing slightly. "Ah, yes, the notorious Nnoitra. I hope he didn't give you any trouble."

She shook her head. "Oh, no, not really. Aizen-san, do you really think there are gangs here at Karakura High?"

He leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair and considering her, his dark eyes intent behind his glasses. "Well, I suppose they exist in every high school."

"Do you know anyone who's a gang member? Because I don't."

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, I was just wondering if they are really as dangerous as people say they are."

He gave a small chuckle. "I doubt it."

She looked surprised. "Why do you say that?"

He sighed. "I think teen gangs exist as a reaction to the rules of our society." His voice was low but forceful. "Teenagers are basically powerless; we live under the control of adults, we're not allowed many of the rights most citizens take for granted— to vote, to determine where we can spend our days, where we can work, where we can go for entertainment…" His deep voice was soft as velvet now, but there was an intensity behind it. Orihime concentrated on his dark brown eyes, feeling she could get lost listening to his melodic voice. "You and I are technically legal adults at 18, but we still can't enter bars; we can't even rent cars until we're 25. We're essentially second-class citizens."

"I guess I never thought about it that way." She half-laughed, nervously, a little startled that he felt so strongly about it.

He gave her a reassuring smile. "But to address your immediate concerns— I wouldn't worry too much about gangs in our school, Inoue-san."

"But Jiruga—" she shuddered. "He certainly looks like he'd be capable of anything."

Aizen shrugged. "I'm not afraid of him and you shouldn't be either. I'm sure he just wants to scare everybody, which is why he puts on that tough-guy image."

"But— what about all the news stories about gang violence, all the special legislation passed against gangs?"

"I think older adults are threatened by teenagers." He smiled at her. "We're young, we're stronger than them, and we're better looking." His eyes traced her face and then dropped briefly below her neckline before coming back to her eyes. "We're full of energy and we're in their faces." His smile was wider now. "Of course they try to list all the things we do wrong. They try to keep us apart, demonize us."

"Wow, it almost sounds like you're in favor of teen gangs existing."

"No, of course I'd never approve of anything illegal," he replied, his face suddenly stern, "but I don't think they're as bad as the press they get." He shifted in his seat. "Now, should we get to work on some math?"

"Oh," Orihime gave an embarrassed laugh, feeling a little guilty that she had completely forgotten the purpose of their meeting as she gawked at those beautiful features and listened to that mesmerizing voice. "Uh, yeah, sure!"

XxXxXxX

The clock at the front of the room read nine p.m.; it was broken like all the other clocks in their school. Orihime glanced at her cell phone. It was really five p.m.

"There," Aizen said, putting down his pencil. "I think that's enough for the first day, don't you?"

Orihime nodded, smiling. "Well, that was interesting!" She looked up at him. "I didn't realize you knew so much about math that wasn't in the textbook, Aizen-san."

He gave her a neutral glance. "I find the intellectual challenge of mathematics very stimulating," he said in a soft voice.

Orihime stifled a giggle at his comment. "Is it your favorite subject?" she asked.

He shook his head and a lock of hair fell in his eyes. "No, I like chemistry the best."

Orihime's eyes widened. "You do? That's my favorite subject too!"

"Is it now?"

"Yes!" she said eagerly. "I want to study biochemistry, because I think there are so many interesting discoveries that are waiting to be made about the chemical processes in the human body. I think that it's biochemistry that'll really help people live longer and healthier lives." She stopped abruptly, suddenly worried she was babbling again, as Tatsuki and Chizuru often told her she was wont to do.

But Aizen didn't appear to mind. He looked at her keenly. "That's an insightful observation."

"Why do you like chemistry?" she asked.

He smiled again. "I just think pharmaceuticals are the wave of the future. There's plenty of money to be made in that arena."

"Oh, I didn't think about money."

He rested his chin on his hand as he eyed her. "Well, I don't plan to be poor all my life, like most of the kids in this neighborhood. And if you don't have a plan, you're doomed to repeat the foolish mistakes the people around you make." There was a faint sneer in his voice.

Orihime sighed. It was true that Karakura High was in the center of the poorest neighborhood in the city. Her relatives had rented her the apartment where she lived because it was the cheapest place they could find. "Yeah, I guess I should start paying attention to those types of things too."

XxXxXxX

Tatsuki was waiting at Orihime's locker the next morning when she arrived at school.

"So, how'd it go?"

Orihime pulled out her physics and calculus textbooks. "How'd what go?"

Tatsuki frowned at her. "Your date! With Aizen!"

"Umm, I don't know if you'd call it a _date_, exactly. We did math together." She started rummaging in her locker for a pencil with a point that wasn't completely broken off.

Tatsuki put her arm on the wall right in front of Orihime's nose and leaned in. "What did you talk about?"

"Well…" Orihime drew back and scratched her face thoughtfully. "First we discussed the Central Limit Theorem, and then Aizen-san talked about a different way to introduce integral calculus using Dedekind cuts—Ow!" she broke off, rubbing her side where Tatsuki had punched her in the ribs.

"No, you idiot, I mean what did you _talk_ about. You can't just have nerded on about math for the whole time—not even _you_ would do that." Tatsuki looked annoyed.

Orihime glared at her friend, still rubbing her ribs. "We met to do _math_. That was the whole _point_ of getting together."

"You didn't talk about anything personal?" Tatsuki looked disappointed. She scowled and crossed her arms.

"Not really." Orihime slammed her locker shut. "Well, we did talk a little about gangs and about what kinds of careers we wanted."

"Oh, now we're getting somewhere," said Tatsuki, gratified. "What kind of career is he— Wait, gangs? How'd that topic come up?"

"Oh, it was just because of running into Nnoitra day before yesterday, you know, and all that stuff Chizuru said. He wanted to know what we were talking about." She paused, thoughtful. "You know, he has some really … _unusual_ ideas."

"About what?" said Tatsuki, looking intrigued.

"Well, he had all these weird, kind of … _philosophical_ ideas about why gangs existed, and teenagers' position in society, and stuff." She shook her head. "Not what I really would have expected from him."

"Oh," Tatsuki looked disappointed. "That's all? He didn't say anything about getting together again with you?"

"Oh—yeah!" Orihime grinned as they started to walk to their physics class together. "He wants to take me out to the Fall Festival Fair next Saturday."

"What? No way! Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Tatsuki looked like she was about to punch Orihime again, so the taller girl put some distance between the two of them, laughing.

XxXxXxX

There was a commotion at the end of the lunch room. It had been raining all morning, so everyone was crammed into the school cafeteria, which as a result was hot, damp, and smelly. The students were grouchy and every now and then a louder complaint made itself heard above the hubbub.

"Uh oh," said Tatsuki, pausing in the act of lifting her sandwich to her mouth. She was looking in the direction of the latest scuffle. "I hope Jaggerjaques and Kurosaki don't get into it in here."

Orihime turned to look. A tall, muscular teen with striking bright blue hair was glaring at the orange-haired youth, who had his fists clenched.

"That would make Kurosaki-kun's third fight in a month. He'd get suspended again for sure." The black-haired girl sighed, watching the brewing fight with concern.

"Who's the other kid?" asked Orihime.

"Grimmjow Jaggerjaques. I don't know what it is, but he and Kurosaki just seem to have it in for each other. They're both constantly looking for excuses to fight. I think what happens is one of them whips the other's ass, so then the other thinks he has to prove he's better." She shook her head, biting into her sandwich. "Boys."

Orihime winced as Grimmjow landed a punch on Ichigo's ribs. "Oh, I hope Kurosaki-kun doesn't get hurt."

Tatsuki snorted. "Don't worry. He's used to it."

Orihime stood up. "I forgot to pack a lunch today, so I guess I better get in line." She sighed ruefully at the length of the line of students waiting to buy food.

XxXxXxX

As Orihime handed over her lunch ticket in payment for her food, she saw Aizen approaching with a lunch tray. He was wearing a thin white shirt that exposed part of a sculpted chest, and another pair of tight-fitting designer jeans. She caught herself staring and averted her eyes as he smiled at her.

"May I carry your tray, Inoue-san?" he asked politely.

Orihime blushed. "Yeah, uh… sure!" she said, almost dropping the tray.

Aizen moved in quickly and managed to catch it before it fell from her hands. Her glass of milk slopped but no other damage was done.

"Oh, sorry!" she apologized. "That was clumsy of me."

"There's no problem," Aizen said in his gentle voice as he picked up an extra napkin from the dispenser and mopped up the spilled milk neatly. He put her glass on his tray, and then stacked her tray on top of his gracefully and lifted them both with one hand.

"Where are you sitting?" His eyes roamed over the lunchtime crowd before settling upon the table where Tatsuki and Chizuru were sitting.

"Uh," said Orihime, flustered, "Don't you usually sit with Ichimaru-san and Tousen-san?" She looked at the small corner table where the two teens, one silver-haired and the other with black hair in neat cornrows, sat alone at a table for four.

"I believe they can forego the pleasure of my company this once," Aizen replied with an indifferent glance in the direction of his friends, holding both trays with one hand and lightly steering Orihime's elbow with the other. She felt an electric shock where his fingers touched her skin. His hand was warm and his grip was firm without being domineering. She found herself moving in the direction he indicated toward Tatsuki and Chizuru. Chizuru was staring at them with her mouth open, until she suddenly gave a jerk and glared at Tatsuki, who frowned back. They both then began elaborately concentrating on their food.

Orihime hid her smile. Tatsuki must have stomped on Chizuru's foot to get her to stop staring. She herself had been on the receiving end of Tatsuki's not so subtle directions at the lunch table… it was painful.

"May I sit with you girls?" Aizen asked politely as they approached.

Tatsuki made a welcoming gesture at the empty seats. "Be my guest, Aizen-san."

He settled himself at the table, smoothly sliding both trays onto the plastic surface while at the same time catching Orihime, who had somehow managed to trip as she was trying to climb into a chair. He steadied her arm and smiled up at her. Out of the corner of her eye, Orihime saw that Tatsuki was grinning and Chizuru was staring.

"So how was the math club meeting?" asked Tatsuki.

Aizen flicked an appreciative glance at Orihime before answering. "With someone as sharp as Inoue-san on the team, I'm sure we'll do very well this year," he said.

Orihime blushed and put a piece of meat from the cafeteria tray in her mouth. She chewed it thoughtfully, for a moment distracted from the conversation as she tried to figure out what kind of meat it was. Could it be buffalo? She had been hearing that was becoming a more common source of protein in some areas. She imagined what life must have been like when herds of buffalo roamed the plains, so numerous that they were the main source of meat for humans living in the area.

A hard jab in the shins brought her back to the lunch table. Tatsuki was glaring at her.

"Uh… yes?" she hazarded, giving the bright smile she often used with success to cover such moments of inattention.

"You idiot," said Tatsuki, "I was asking what you thought of the other team members."

Orihime blushed more furiously and avoided looking at Aizen. "Well, actually, it seems Aizen-san and I are the only members."

"What?" asked Chizuru in disbelief. "How can it be a club with only two members?" She leered at Aizen. "Sounds more like a date to me."

Aizen looked faintly amused. "Well," he said, "There weren't that many people interested in the first place, and then Inoue-san and I were the only ones who passed the entrance exam."

"A club with an entrance exam?" asked Tatsuki, shaking her head. "That's weird."

"You see," Orihime explained, "we're going to be representing the school in math contests, so the teacher wanted to make sure we were all good students."

"I still think you need more members," said Chizuru.

"I agree," put in Aizen. He turned to Chizuru. "Honshou-san, how would you like to join the math club?"

"Me?" said Chizuru. Her face filled with horror. "No thanks! I'm no good at math."

Aizen turned to Tatsuki, raising his eyebrows in a question. She shook her head. "No, Inoue's the smart one in this group."

Aizen shrugged and went back to eating his lunch, frowning slightly at the meat.

As they continued eating, Orihime noticed that another commotion on the other side of the room was getting louder. The fight between Jaggerjaques and Kurosaki, averted earlier, appeared to have re-started.

Orihime looked over in concern. Jaggerjaques had knocked Kurosaki to the floor and was saying something with a sneer on his face. Suddenly Kurosaki, his face red, had leaped up and decked Jaggerjaques. The three girls stopped eating and began watching the fight with concern. Aizen calmly continued to eat his lunch, ignoring the two brawlers.

"Aizen-san, you don't seem to be interested in this fight," said Chizuru boldly, turning her head back to him.

He shrugged dismissively. "Displays of brute force don't interest me."

Orihime was still looking at the fight with apprehension. "I hope Kurosaki-kun doesn't get hurt."

"The worst thing that's likely to happen to him is another suspension," Aizen commented as he finished his milk.

A couple of teachers had appeared on the scene and were separating the two boys. Orihime could see their stern faces as they marched the two off in the direction of the principal's office.

Tatsuki looked back at Aizen. "Aizen-san, why aren't you interested in fighting? Don't you study martial arts? I've seen you working out." She eyed his obvious musculature underneath the lightweight shirt.

"Yes, I study jujitsu at the dojo on First Street," he said, wiping his lips with his napkin. "And I do work out every day." He smiled at her. "It's good exercise."

She raised her eyebrows. "Then surely you must spar with others on a regular basis as well. Isn't that 'brute force'?"

He leaned back in his chair and considered Tatsuki. "I prefer to think of jujitsu as the application of the least possible amount of force to redirect your opponent's energy." His eyes glinted behind his glasses. "...Or to attack their weak spots. It's about as far away from brute force as you can get."

"So why do you work out?" challenged Tatsuki.

"Because," he said, "it's always good to become stronger." Light flashed off one of the lenses of his glasses as he regarded her. "That's your aim as well, isn't it, Arisawa-san? To keep striving to be stronger, to push past your own limits?"

Orihime looked a little nervously at the two of them. There was an unspoken challenge in the air between them that made her a little uncomfortable.

But Tatsuki merely grinned, defusing the situation. She lifted her apple to her mouth and took another bite. "You're absolutely right, Aizen-san."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

(Originally posted 12/18/10.)

XxXxXxX

The doorbell rang as Orihime had just finished getting dressed for her night out. She was wearing a floral skirt, tan thigh-highs, and a black silk blouse with a red sweater over the top since it was getting nippy in the evenings. She opened the door to see Aizen standing there, slender and devastatingly elegant all in black again, holding a bouquet of deep red roses in one of his long-fingered hands. He was leaning casually against the wall, eyes half-lidded, his thick brown hair artfully tousled. She resisted the urge to reach up and run her fingers through it.

"Good evening, Inoue-san," he said. His eyebrows lifted as his gaze traveled up and down her body. A slow smile curled his lips. "You look beautiful," he said softly. He held out the roses to her.

"Uh, hi!" she said, blushing again and trying to cover it up by acting cheerful. "Thanks!" She took the flowers and put them under her nose, taking a deep breath. "Mmm, these smell wonderful! I love flowers, but no one has ever given me roses before." Aizen looked pleased. "Please come on in." She stepped back from the open door and he entered her apartment.

He looked around her small living room with interest as she bustled around in the kitchen, putting the flowers in a vase full of water. Orihime imagined how an outsider would see her apartment: beige walls with water stains from where the leak from the tenant upstairs had been, dingy curtains over the small windows, mismatched, second-hand furniture, the vinyl-upholstered armchair patched with duct tape. She felt embarrassed.

"Who else lives here?" Her disparaging thoughts were interrupted by Aizen's deep voice, and she looked up, surprised to see him suddenly so close to her, leaning on her kitchen counter watching her arrange the flowers in the vase.

"Oh, I live here alone," she said. "It was just my brother and me until he died." She tried to sound quelling, not wanting to talk about Sora.

Aizen's voice was gentle. "I'm so sorry." He paused, and then reached out to touch one of the roses with one hand, looking hard at the tips of the flower stalks. "Ah. My apologies are needed here as well." He gently cupped one hand around one of the petals and waited for a moment.

"What is it?" asked Orihime.

He tilted his hand to show her a spider crawling around on his palm. "I didn't see that on there. Please forgive me for bringing unwanted visitors into your home."

"Oh, it doesn't matter—" began Orihime, but Aizen was already turning back into the living room. He walked to the window and unlatched and opened it with his left hand, and then laid the back of his right hand flat against the sill. Curious, Orihime followed him and looked down at his hand. The spider stopped crawling for a moment, and then it scurried off his palm and onto the outer sill. Aizen waited a moment, until it had vanished into the darkness, then quietly closed and latched the window.

He smiled at her. "There. All taken care of."

She smiled back, impressed that he cared enough for the life of one small spider to take the time to release it outdoors.

"Is that a memorial to your brother over there?" He was looking at Sora's altar now.

Orihime clenched her fists briefly, and then took a deep breath. "Yes," she said. Aizen moved to stand in front of Sora's altar, then gracefully squatted, studying her brother's picture. She followed him reluctantly.

He looked up at her. "He looks like you," he said.

Orihime followed his gaze to the picture. That wasn't usually what people said. "Um, he has a different color hair."

Aizen straightened. "No. I mean that his eyes are kind, like yours." His own eyes were fixed on hers.

Orihime felt herself blushing again. She wished she could get it under control. "Oh. Well, he was very kind… very good to me," she muttered.

Aizen could see she was uncomfortable and took pity on her. "Come," he said, holding out his hand for hers. "Why don't we go to the fair now?"

She nodded in relief and went to get her things. Then she locked up her apartment and they walked downstairs together.

A tiny, bright yellow car was parked at the curb. Orihime looked at it in dismay. It looked more like a toy than a real car. Aizen bent to open the passenger side door for her.

"Uh— is that a real car?" she asked, and then bit her lip. It sounded like a stupid question.

Aizen did not appear to be offended. He gazed proudly at his vehicle. "It's a Lotus Elan," he said. When she looked confused, he added, "It's a type of sports car— very fast and fun to drive."

She had to squat down in order to slide into the low-slung seat. Aizen closed the door with a soft click. It didn't even sound like a regular car door. The seats were upholstered in soft tan leather. She ran her hand over the leather – it felt as soft as butter. There was a faint smell of gasoline inside the car.

Aizen got in the driver's side and started the engine. The smell of gasoline intensified, and the engine sounded very loud.

"Wow," she said, "aren't sports cars expensive?" She had thought Aizen was poor like her, and she had recognized the free and reduced lunch program ticket he had used in the cafeteria.

The brown-haired teen grinned at her. "Not this one. It's a 1969 model that I bought for nothing at a junkyard auction. A friend of mine restored it for me," he said, running his fingers lovingly over the polished wood dashboard.

"Oh," she said, clutching the grip on the dashboard as he put the car in gear and swung away from the curb.

She had never ridden with someone who drove like Aizen. He was extremely aggressive, weaving in and out of traffic, accelerating and decelerating rapidly. Compounded with the fact that she felt that she was sitting about two inches above the road and that the car seemed to register every bump they ran over, she found herself becoming uneasy and clutching the armrest on the passenger door.

Aizen noticed her discomfort and seemed amused. "What's wrong?" he asked as he nearly sideswiped a Honda and then slipped into a miniscule gap between a BMW and a beat-up SUV. Orihime looked up at the SUV towering over them and gulped.

"Do you always drive like this?"

He chuckled. "Yes. I don't like other cars getting in my way." He accelerated and pulled into another lane to overtake the SUV, then darted back into their original lane and accelerated through a yellow light.

"Uh, don't you get a lot of tickets?" She half-expected to see flashing lights behind them at any moment.

"No." His voice was amused. "I have a radar detector and naturally fast reflexes."

"It feels like the wheels are… barefoot on the road."

He glanced at her. "That's a good description. The spring rate on the suspension is rather heavy, which makes the car very responsive, but not as cushy a ride." He spun the wheel abruptly to get around a slow-moving Volvo and smirked. "If I can do something like that, I don't mind feeling a few extra bumps."

"Oh," she said, clutching the handle more tightly.

"You can relax the death grip," he said in a reassuring voice, smooth as velvet and preternaturally calm. "I've never had an accident."

Orihime flushed. "Oh, sorry," she apologized, forcing herself to let go and put both hands in her lap, where they twisted together.

He put one hand on her arm and leaned toward her, his dark eyes flashing with amusement. "Trust me. I'll get you there safely."

"Uh, yeah, sure!" she said in a voice that was half an octave higher than usual as he ran a red light and raced another car to an open slot in the other lane, cutting it off. The other driver honked furiously. She turned her head to stare fixedly out the front windshield, hoping it would encourage Aizen to do the same. She heard another amused chuckle.

"I really am a very good driver, Inoue-san." When she said nothing, he glanced at her and said, "I can tone it down for you if you wish." His voice held just a hint of mockery.

"No…" she said faintly, despite feeling that all her muscles had turned to jelly. "I'm fine."

"Good," he said with a smirk, accelerating once again and continuing to weave in and out of traffic. She didn't want to look at the speedometer, but couldn't resist a peek. They were still on one of the city streets leading out of town. The speed limit read 45 mph. The little needle on the speedometer was creeping towards 85. Mesmerized, Orihime kept her eyes on it, almost not wanting to know. Abruptly, Aizen decelerated as a car ahead of them pulled suddenly into their lane. She was thrown forward into the seat belt as he braked.

Orihime suddenly thought it felt like an amusement park ride with all the accelerations, maybe a combination between bumper cars and a roller coaster. The image made her smile despite her nervousness, and she saw Aizen's answering smile out of the corner of her eye. Another driver honked at them.

"I think you're making the other drivers angry, Aizen-san."

"Well, we'll be out of their way soon enough," he said calmly. He downshifted smoothly and turned onto the road leading to the mall just outside of town.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He continued to surprise her. There were many more layers to his personality than just the quiet nerd… there was the gentleness, evidenced by the preservation of a spider's life; there was the competitiveness at school; there were the flashes of unconventional thought; and now there was this odd aggressiveness on the road… which she supposed was tied to his competitive nature. It was all quite intriguing. She wondered if she would keep peeling back layers of his personality, like a mystery gradually being revealed, as she got to know him better.

She shot another glance at him, his profile serene, dark eyes flicking over the road, the long fingers of one hand resting casually on the wheel, the other wrapped around the stick shift. She was becoming fascinated, almost against her will. He was turning out to be somewhat of an enigma despite her initial impressions… and he was definitely attractive… even devastatingly beautiful. She had been so certain that there was only one man for her. Could it be possible that she had been wrong?

XxXxXxX

The carnival had transformed the vacant lot in back of the mall into a glittering sea of lights, sounds and smells. Straw had been scattered over the ground and its warm, earthy smell reminded Orihime of a long-ago field trip to a farm just outside of town. People were laughing and shouting, and off-key carnival music was blaring from tinny speakers at multiple locations. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy hung in the night air.

Orihime grinned at Aizen, excited by the sensory overload of the fair. She always loved activities like this, where lots of people got together to have fun in unusual environments. He smiled back at her, his bangs falling over his glasses again and obscuring his eyes, and reached out and took one of her hands in his; his grip was warm and dry; it felt comforting and secure.

They walked along the a row of game booths, where chattering groups threw balls at small targets, tried to drop objects in arrays of glasses, or tossed hoops over stuffed animals. Orihime loved watching others play the games. As she stopped for the third time at one of the booths to watch a brash teenager try to win a huge stuffed animal for his girlfriend, Aizen nudged her.

"Do you want one of those?" he asked, pointing at the stuffed toy. Orihime was not used to having money to play these games, and she assumed Aizen didn't have much either.

"Oh, no!" she said, laughing. "I just like to watch."

"Really?" he asked. "I have plenty of money tonight," he added. "I'd like to treat you to whatever you want." He gave her a winning smile.

"Oh, all right!" she laughed. "Just try once."

He smiled and stepped up to the counter. The middle-aged, paunchy man running the game grinned. "Step right up, young sir. How would you like to try your luck? Two dollars for three balls; knock down three targets and you get the choice of our top prizes." He indicated the row of huge stuffed dogs along the back of the booth.

Aizen smiled and handed over two dollars. He looked back at Orihime and the side of his mouth quirked up. The small disks you had to knock out of the way were battered and a couple of them were turned to the side. Orihime studied them carefully; it was clear that they were harder to knock down than they looked.

Aizen took aim carefully with the first ball. Then his arm drew back and flicked forward so quickly Orihime almost couldn't see his motion. The ball whipped forward and struck the center of one of the targets with a loud clang, knocking it backward violently.

The paunchy man raised his eyebrows briefly and glanced with narrowed eyes at Aizen for a moment before he was shouting, "Great shot, young man. Congratulations. Now, ready for another? Can you do as well the second time?"

Aizen ignored him as he repeated the actions of the first ball and in short order a second target was down. The man was congratulating him again as Aizen leaned into Orihime's ear and whispered, "Watch what he's doing with his left hand."

She looked over and saw that the man had a small cord in his hand and had just pulled it tight underneath the counter, looping it around a protruding lever.

Aizen murmured in her ear again, "That little device locks all the targets in place." He pointed with his chin back up at the row of targets, and indeed, they were no longer quivering in the breeze.

Orihime turned to Aizen with a shocked look on her face. "But—" she whispered back in dismay, "that's cheating!"

His eyes narrowed and there was a feline grin on his face. "Inoue-san," he said, "go over to the other side and ask him if that large blue dog is one of the prizes."

She followed his gaze. The stuffed toy in question was at the very end of the row. Puzzled, she obeyed his request. "Mister?" she asked, stretching over the counter to point out the dog. "Is that one of the prizes we can get?"

"Eh, little lady?" he asked, his eyes following her gaze. "You betcha. You could win that huge, oversized dog to bring home tonight." His eyes strayed to her neckline.

In that moment, she heard a loud clang. Aizen had thrown the third ball, knocking down yet another target. Orihime, still looking at the man's face, saw his eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in anger. He looked back at Aizen, who was sporting a triumphant smile. His eyes dropped to the lever beneath the counter and widened again slightly.

"Well, congratulations, young man. You're our first winner of the night," he said with a tight smile, staring at Aizen as though he were trying to memorize his features. "What prize would you like?"

"The young lady will choose," Aizen replied.

Orihime, distracted by the complex interplay between the two, was startled. "Oh! Sorry, uh, I guess I want that one." She indicated the large blue dog she had been pointing at earlier.

The man untied it from its place in the row and handed it over to her with more jolly words spoken from a tight mouth under hostile eyes. Aizen was relaxed and amused, thanking the man in a gracious tone.

He was chuckling as they turned away from the booth to continue down the path.

"What did you do, over there?" asked Orihime, proudly balancing the large stuffed animal as she walked.

Aizen said softly, "I just evened the odds a bit."

"But how?" she insisted.

"While you distracted him, I took out my knife and cut the cord that held the targets in place." He glanced at her, that amused, superior half-smile still on his lips. "That made the game fair again." He paused, his eye caught by something or someone on the other side of the field, and his face stilled and became serious. Then he gave a brief nod and lifted a hand in acknowledgment.

He turned to Orihime. "My dear, there's someone I have to see for a moment. Do you mind waiting for me?" He scanned the nearby booths. There was one odd contraption that looked like two giant arms growing out of the ground, holding a red banner above the gray tent underneath. The banner flapped in the wind, and Orihime could barely read the words on it in heavily curlicued letters: "Fortune Telling."

"How would you like your fortune told?" he asked her, indicating the booth.

"Uh, sure!" said Orihime brightly.

"Let's go in," he said, guiding her gently between the shoulders to the odd tent.

Inside, the tent was dimly lit and the air was chokingly warm and heavy with incense. Aizen steered her forward to where a grey-haired woman sat behind a small table. He laid a twenty dollar bill on the table and said, "My friend would like her fortune told, please."

The old woman took the money and said, "That'll be ten dollars, young man."

"Keep the change. Just give her a good fortune." To Orihime, he said, "I'll be back in less than fifteen minutes." He scooped up the large stuffed dog. "And I'll take this back to the car so you don't have to carry it around." Then he was gone, the tent flap stirring behind him on a quick flurry of cool air.

The woman at the table grinned toothlessly at Orihime. "Please go right in, miss." She indicated a curtain at the rear of the tent. "Madame Shiba will see you now."

As Orihime's eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw, printed on the curtain, "Madame Kuukaku Shiba, Fortune Teller." She pushed it aside and entered the back area of the tent.

This part of the room was even dimmer and more heavily fragranced than the outside waiting area. Orihime saw a woman with unevenly cut black hair with a white bandanna wrapped around her head, sitting at the far end of the room behind a table draped in a black cloth. A crystal ball stood on a small stand on the table, and a single straight-backed chair was placed directly in front of the crystal.

"Come in, come in, don't just stand there," came an irritated voice from the back of the room.

Orihime timidly walked forward and seated herself on the chair, looking up into the faded blue eyes of the woman. To her surprise, she was younger than Orihime had expected, shrewd eyes narrowed. Orihime was shocked to see that she was smoking a pipe. The woman took it out of her mouth with her left hand and placed it on a pipe stand at her left. "So you've come to have your fortune told, eh?"

She grinned briefly, exposing stained and crooked teeth. "What would you like to know? No, don't tell me. You want to know about love." She grinned again, leaning forward, and Orihime saw that her right arm was cut off just below the shoulder, the stump wrapped with dark bandages. With her left hand she rapidly flicked a number of cards painted with elaborate drawings back and forth and laid them out on the table in front of her.

Then she stopped suddenly and her eyes seemed to widen in shock. She looked at Orihime and barked abruptly, "Give me your hand!"

"Uh… what?" Orihime gave a nervous laugh.

"Your hand, girl, so I can read your palm," the woman said, irritated. With her left hand she reached out for Orihime's right palm. The girl tentatively laid it palm upwards on the table between them.

The woman bent over Orihime's hand, muttering to herself. Then she looked up, her eyes bright. "Well. I don't see this too often." She stroked one line on Orihime's palm with a dark, calloused finger. She cackled. "You are one of the fortunate few who will meet their soul mate in this lifetime. Eh, if I'm not mistaken—" She picked up Orihime's hand and drew it closer to her beaky nose. "In not one but five lifetimes." She looked at Orihime with what could have been speculative congratulations.

She leered at her. "Did you come in with your boyfriend? I see you and your soul mate married, with not one or two but four children in your future."

Orihime gave an embarrassed laugh, taken aback. Somehow she couldn't imagine Aizen as a father. The woman scrutinized her palm again. "But wait— I see dark times ahead for you and your young man. Over the next year, very dark times… and again, about another decade in the future. A dark shadow crosses your path… and it will be the same one both times." She frowned at Orihime's palm, and said almost reluctantly, "Your life will be in danger."

She looked up at Orihime, who saw that the woman's eyes had dilated in the dim light. Her face seemed marked by fear, her earlier bravado gone. She spoke softly now. "I don't give this warning very often, but I must ask you to be extremely cautious. The shadow stands very close to you now."

Orihime gave a sharp intake of breath, marveling at the quality of the woman's act. She was really terrifying. "Uh… what should I do?"

"You… and your boyfriend…" the woman whispered, "must stay away from the man who walks in the shadows, the man with the mask. He has two faces, and both are deadly." Her eyes bored into Orihime. "He holds his hand out to you now, but you must refuse…"

Orihime pushed back her chair, breaking out into a cold sweat at the woman's words. The utter belief with which she made her pronouncement shook Orihime to the core.

There was a noise in the outer room and Orihime heard voices. The woman in front of her relaxed. "Ah. Your boyfriend is here to pick you up." She gave a snaggle-toothed grin and twitched her eyebrows suggestively. "Go in blessings with your soul mate," she said, smiling.

Hesitantly, Orihime began to push back the chair. As she did, she felt a brush of cooler air as the curtain was drawn back for someone to enter. The woman's eyes lifted to meet the visitor, and to Orihime's shock, she blanched even more than she had before, her eyes dilating in abject terror. "No…" she whispered. "It's him…"

Orihime turned to see Aizen walking forward, smiling at her. "Did you have an interesting visit, Inoue-san?" he asked, and then looked toward the woman behind the table. "Did you predict a wonderful future for the two of us, madam?"

The woman's mouth seemed stuck for a moment. "Uh, yes… yes, young sir," she croaked. "An excellent future. Good evening, miss, sir," she said, turning away from them.

Aizen held out his hand to Orihime. "Come. Let's go." He seemed very pleased with something.

"Did your meeting with your friend go well?" Orihime asked, as they passed through the tent flap on the way out.

"Very," said Aizen, smiling. "And how was your fortune?"

Orihime shivered. "It was a bit… strange," she admitted. "Well, kind of scary, actually. At first it sounded kind of normal, all this stuff about soul mates… but then she got kind of weird, telling me my life was in danger."

Aizen snorted. "The usual twaddle. Beware the dark stranger, isn't that usually it?" he said scornfully.

"Not quite," Orihime said. "She told me to beware a man with a mask."

Aizen laughed. "Sounds quite ridiculous. I suppose that's what you'd expect from such charlatans. Well, I hope it was entertaining."

"Oh, it was… I guess." Orihime shivered again. "She just sounded… so convincing."

XxXxXxX

They were wandering down another aisle, on their way to the Ferris wheel, when suddenly four men came out of a dark alley on their left and moved to flank them. Orihime stiffened, but then relaxed. Surely it was safe here at the fair, with so many people around. Aizen took a half-step forward, blocking the others' access to her protectively.

The man in front, black-haired, young and handsome, spoke directly to Aizen, his face hard and closed. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave the Fair, sir," he said.

The brown-haired teen raised his eyebrows. "Indeed? May I ask what transgression we have committed, to merit this type of treatment?" he said in a mild tone of voice.

The man said, "My name is Kaien Shiba. As the general manager of the Fair, I have the right to deny access to anyone for any reason, sir. Now, will you please step this way?" He indicated the direction towards the nearest exit. The three other men with him closed ranks behind him. Two were large and burly, and all looked hostile.

Aizen's voice was still calm. "Shiba-san, I would suggest that you not go through with this." He gazed directly at the other man, but there was no anger in his voice. "You will regret it if you do."

Shiba's face hardened further. "Nevertheless, you must leave. Now, will you come quietly or will we have to carry you out of here?" The other men edged closer. Orihime clutched Aizen's arm in worry.

He turned to her with a calm smile, placing a hand on hers. "Don't worry, Inoue-san. They won't bother us any more if we just leave now. It was time to go anyway." He nodded and began to walk in the direction they indicated.

Orihime let out her breath. One never knew; sometimes the mildest-looking guys could become combative at the drop of a hat, if they thought their pride had been insulted. She should have known that Aizen would not be the type who would bluster, even if they had embarrassed him in front of his date. She looked at him sidelong as they followed the Fair officials toward the exit. His face was placid, without a trace of anger or hostility. He did seem to be more mature than most of the kids in the high school.

But how odd that the Fair staff would want to evict them. She supposed it was because of his actions at the stuffed animal booth; she grimaced in disdain. It was shocking, she thought, the types of activities they allowed to go on at this Fair. She had to say that her eyes had certainly been opened to the shady dealings that went on at carnivals.

No more words were exchanged as they were led to an exit gate and escorted through. Aizen wore a faint smile upon his lips as they walked back to his car.

"Well. That was quite an experience," he said to her as they walked side-by-side.

Orihime laughed. "Yes, I've never been evicted from an event before. Do you think it was because of what happened at the booth?"

Aizen's smile widened. "Most likely. I admit I am a bit surprised that they would target me. Rather shabby of them, don't you think?"

They were approaching his car, tiny and white-looking under the halogen lights of the parking lot. Aizen bent to open the door for Orihime and help her into the passenger seat. As he reached down to close the door, he said, "Please forgive my rudeness, Inoue-san, but I have a phone call I need to make. Do you mind?"

"No, please, go ahead, Aizen-san."

He closed the door gently and she watched through the front windshield as he pulled out his cell phone and spoke into it. She watched his face as he talked; it was serene and calm. She wondered what he was saying to the person on the other end. After a few minutes he closed the phone and slid into the driver's side seat.

Smiling, he looked at Orihime. "I have a favorite spot I'd like to take you to visit, if you're interested."

"Oh, of course, Aizen-san. Where is it?"

"It's a bit of a drive, but worth it in the end." He started the engine and pulled out of their parking spot. "The road winds a little, but the view is spectacular."

"Uh, I'm sorry to complain," Orihime began, "but I get a little carsick on winding roads…"

Aizen laughed. "Ah, and what you're not saying is, with the way I drive, you're sure to lose that fine hot dog dinner we had at the fair." He smiled gently at her. "Don't worry. I'll keep it slow for you."

With that, he began to drive smoothly and carefully, out of the lot, along the highway, and up the winding road to the hills at the outskirts of the city.

XxXxXxX

It took about an hour to reach the location Aizen had in mind. He had kept his word, driving almost as sedately as a normal person. They had driven up a winding highway for about forty minutes, and then turned off onto a smaller road. Finally he had turned left, crested a small rise, and there it was— their entire city spread out before them in a scintillating panorama of light, jewels and stars against a black velvet night.

Aizen took her hand to help her out of the car, and then led her to a large, flat rock overlooking the view. There was a cold breeze blowing in their faces at this elevation, and Orihime shivered. Aizen spread out his coat on the cold surface of the rock for her to sit on.

"Well?" he asked, smiling. "Was it worth it?"

"Oh, yes!" she breathed, looking out over the glittering view. "It's beautiful."

He smiled again and took her cold hand in his warm one. His touch was thrilling and comforting at the same time. "Your hand is cold," he said softly, as he brought his other hand to cover it, and then sat looking out over the view with her. Orihime followed his gaze. Far below them and over to their right, she saw something odd. Frowning, she looked at it again.

"Oh, look!" she said, pointing. "It looks like something's on fire over there." She leaned forward and focused her eyes.

Off in the distance were tiny points of flame rising over a square of irregular pinpoints of light. Behind it she saw a tiny lighted wheel rising over the flat pattern of lights on the ground. "Oh!" she said again in surprise. "It looks like it's at the Fair!" The flames appeared to leap and gather, and now she was able to pick out other landmarks as well. It was definitely the area of town where the Fair was being held.

Aizen looked at the area. He gave an indifferent shrug. "Who knows what's going on there?" He turned to her. "Inoue-san," he murmured near her ear. "I have something important I'd like to tell you."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. He looked down at her, that faint smile on his full lips, his large, beautiful eyes alight with emotion. "Do you know that I've been watching you for a while, trying to get up the courage to ask you out?"

She shook her head. "No, how could that be? I'm so ordinary."

He laughed and lifted one hand, reaching out to her face and gently stroking her cheek. She felt a tingle go through her at his touch. "Now, I can't believe the idol of Karakura High is saying that. Don't you know you're beautiful?" he asked.

Orihime blushed. She still didn't know who had started that phrase about her, but for some reason, it had spread throughout the school. "Uh, I don't know."

He reached up to touch her hair. "Yes. The color of your hair— it's the exact color of the last blush of sunset. Those grey eyes are like a stormy morning. And your face…" He shook his head slowly. "Your face is perfection itself. It's as though you were drawn by a master artist." He smiled at her and she blushed, embarrassed, not knowing how to respond.

Orihime looked down where his hand was still holding hers. She felt a rush of heat in her face and then in her body. Could it truly be that she had feelings for someone other than the person she had loved for so many years? She felt both confused and excited. She tightened her hand on Aizen's and he responded with a warm squeeze.

As they sat together looking out over the city, she heard, off in the distance, the sound of sirens from multiple fire engines on the city streets below. But they were faint and far away, and she barely heard them as Aizen's gentle voice washed over her ears.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

(Originally posted 12/28/10.)

XxXxXxX

"Orihime!" Chizuru's voice carried across the courtyard as she ran down the school steps toward her friend. "Ohmygod, I'm so glad you're okay!" she cried, running full-tilt at Orihime, who ducked out of the way with the ease of long practice at evading Chizuru's full-body hugs.

"What's wrong, Chizuru?" she asked. Her friend seemed quite upset.

"Didn't you see the news yesterday?" Chizuru gasped, out of breath after her run.

"No, I haven't had time… I got home late on Saturday, went hiking on Sunday, and spent what was left of the day catching up on homework," Orihime confessed, swinging her backpack over the other shoulder.

Chizuru got a gleam in her eye. "Yes, you have to tell me about what happened on Saturday, too!"

"Don't worry," said Orihime, laughing. "I'll tell you and Tatsuki everything. Everything there is to tell, that is. But what was on the news?"

"There was a huge fire at the Fall Festival Fair." Chizuru's eyes were big. "All sorts of trailers and equipment burned down. A bunch of people had to go to the hospital. Two people died! And it turned out they were dealing drugs out there at the carnival. The police made a bunch of arrests and they shut down the entire Fair."

"Oh no," said Orihime, her eyes wide. "That's awful! We didn't see anything of that. It was all pretty quiet while we were there. I guess we got lucky that they threw us out."

"What? Who threw you out? Why?" Chizuru's rapid-fire questions came one upon the heels of the next and Orihime laughed, waving her hand at her friend.

"Slow down. Slow down! I'll tell you and Tatsuki everything at lunch."

"No!" Chizuru grabbed her around the shoulders, hard. "You're going to tell me everything, now!" Her eyes were burning with curiosity.

"All right, all right!" agreed Orihime, laughing. "Aizen-san discovered one of the people running a booth had rigged their game so you couldn't win, and he somehow got around it. I guess that made the Fair people mad, because not too long afterward, their manager, a guy called Kaien Shiba, came up to us with three goons and told us we had to leave."

"Wait— Kaien Shiba? I think that's the name of one of the guys that was killed in the fire!" Chizuru pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and pressed a couple of keys quickly. Scanning the news articles, she pulled up the one she wanted. "Yeah, that's him. The police found drugs in his trailer. They think he was the ringleader of a drug cartel!" She looked up at Orihime. "You actually _met_ the guy that night? Scary!"

"Wow." Orihime shivered. "I had no idea that's what he was doing. He didn't seem like a drug dealer at all." She paused, suddenly wondering exactly _what_ a drug dealer would be like, and then shrugged. "Anyway, he just seemed angry for some reason. Maybe his drug deal was going wrong."

Chizuru was still excited, her eyes leaping back and forth from the phone to Orihime's face. "So, what was he like? What did he say?"

"Not all that much. He just told Aizen-san and me that we had to leave the Fair, and that as the general manager, he had the right to evict anyone on any grounds." She thought back over their confrontation that evening. "At first I was afraid Aizen-san would get all upset. He said something a little strange… at least I thought it was strange at the time."

"What? What did he say?" Chizuru looked like she was ready to jump at Orihime and shake her to get the news out of her faster.

"He said something like, 'You'll regret this,' and I remember thinking it sounded all ominous." She pondered some more. "I was worried at first there might be a fight."

"Yeah?" said Chizuru, hanging on her every word.

"But he was really calm about it, not angry at all. Then he just agreed to go and we went. I remember thinking that Aizen-san was really mature about the whole situation." She put her head on one side. "Not like some other people at this high school."

Chizuru rolled her eyes. Then she grinned. "You really like him, don't you?"

"What?" asked Orihime, blushing. "Well, yeah, I guess so."

Just then Tatsuki came up to join them. "Hey girls, I hope you're not telling secrets without me."

Orihime turned to her, grateful for the change of subject. "Chizuru was just telling me about the fire at the Fair on Saturday night, and I was telling her that we left before anything scary happened."

"Next time tell your friends you're okay!" Tatsuki put her hands on her hips. "I must've called you about a hundred times on Sunday, asking what happened Saturday night, and your voicemail was full! Why didn't you answer your phone?" She glared at Orihime.

Orihime hung her head. "I'm sorry, Tatsuki. I just turned it off and forgot to turn it on."

"Well, what were you doing all day Sunday?"

"Ummm, well," Orihime hesitated. Then she let the words out all in a rush. "I went hiking up on Coyote Trail with Aizen-san."

"You _what_?" shouted Chizuru. "You spent the whole day with him? Now you _have_ to tell us everything!" Both girls glared fiercely at Orihime and she sighed.

"I'll tell you everything… but there's not that much to say," she protested. "We had a really nice hike in the hills. He's a very interesting person. Very nice. Really thoughtful," she added.

The other two were bursting with curiosity. Tatsuki put her head close to Orihime's and said in a low voice, "What did you two do? Has he kissed you yet?"

Orihime drew back, scowling at Tatsuki. "No. For your information," she said in a haughty voice, "he's been very polite. We talked, that's all."

Chizuru frowned. "He hasn't kissed you. Has he even tried? How many dates have you had now?" She counted on her fingers. "One, two, three. Three dates and no kiss. That's kind of slow."

Orihime blushed. "We— we held hands on the hike," she confessed. "And, I wondered if he would try to kiss me, and I wasn't sure what I'd do if he tried." She looked back at Tatsuki. "You know why. I was always… kind of hoping that my first kiss would be with…" She trailed off and looked out into the distance. "With Kurosaki-kun," she whispered. "But I guess that's not going to happen."

Tatsuki said, "I think it's sweet that he's not pushing you. Shows that he's a good person." She nodded with approval.

"Kurosaki-kun wouldn't have pushed me either," Orihime insisted.

The black-haired girl rolled her eyes. "No, he wouldn't have. And he didn't."

Orihime looked wistful for a moment, but then her eyes misted over. "Aizen-san is always doing all these little things for me, like holding doors open. I didn't know people did that anymore. And when he looks at me, I feel strange inside. When he held my hand, I didn't want to let go. He said I was beautiful…"

The other two were looking at her, their expressions softened for a moment. "That just means he has eyes, idiot," growled Tatsuki. "Of course you're beautiful."

Chizuru said, with a long sigh, "Hime, I still wish you would think about being with women, but… even I have to admit he sounds really sweet."

"I'm so glad for you," said Tatsuki, smiled at her friend. "It sounds like he's a really nice person as well as being incredibly hot." She grinned widely as Orihime blushed again. "That doesn't happen all too often."

"Yeah," put in Chizuru. "The cute ones are all assholes or not interested." Her expression turned sad for a moment as she glanced at Orihime, but then she brightened and looked speculative. "There's got to be something wrong with him. Nobody can be that nice."

"Well—" Orihime began, and the other two girls leaned in to hear what was wrong with him. "He's on his cell phone a lot. But he always asks permission first." She smiled at the memory.

Tatsuki and Chizuru looked at each other. "That's it? That's the only thing wrong with him?" asked Chizuru.

"How much is a lot?" asked Tatsuki.

"Well, maybe five times yesterday."

"Girl," said Tatsuki, shaking her head. "That is not a lot. Unless he talked for an hour each time."

"No," Orihime responded. "It was never more than five or ten minutes."

Chizuru snorted. "I wouldn't worry about that."

Just then the bell rang loudly, startling the three girls. "Damn it!" cried Tatsuki. "I'm late for class and we've got a test!" She streaked off down the hall and the other two headed off in separate directions for their classes.

XxXxXxX

Orihime's next class had been temporarily moved to a new location because the old room was flooded, but she had forgotten. So now she was running to class, late. She wasn't as familiar with this part of the school, so she was trying to check the room numbers as she ran, and was getting confused. She finally stopped to catch her breath in front of a girls' bathroom.

She was in an older and more run-down part of the school, where many of the windows were cracked and there was graffiti on some of the walls. The worst part is that she really needed to go to the bathroom. If she went back to the one she usually used, she would be late for class for sure. She'd heard that some of the bathrooms were in bad shape and even dangerous, as kids used them to smoke or take drugs. But surely it wouldn't be a problem if she just quickly used the toilet and left.

She pushed open the graffitied door and went in. The bathroom smelled even worse than the one she usually used and was dimly lit with fewer than half of the fluorescent panels providing flickering light. Orihime grimaced. The floor was sticky, and a there was a pile of used tampons and pads against one wall. One of the bathroom stalls had no door, and another had a door hanging loose from one hinge. Graffiti covered all the walls and doors of the stalls.

Orihime was quickly moving toward one of the stalls when a hand grabbed her shoulder. She yelped and jumped sideways, turning to see who was behind her. Two girls were standing there, hands on their hips and threatening glares on their faces; they must have been sitting in a little nook off to one side of the door that she hadn't seen when she came in.

"What are you doing here?" The one who had grabbed her shoulder had long black hair in two ponytails. Her face was twisted into a menacing expression. Her eyes were heavily made up and outlined in black; she had multiple piercings in her lower lip, nose, and along the rims of both ears. She wore a skimpy black and white top that left her flat, toned midriff bare, and had leather bands with metal studs on her wrists and a matching collar around her neck. She wore a short white skirt and thigh-high black leather boots with stiletto heels.

The other girl behind her had short, spiky blonde hair and piercing green eyes that were as heavily made up as the other girl's. She was wearing a similar outfit except that her bracelets and collar were white. She stood behind the first girl, also looking outraged.

Orihime smiled, trying to be placating. "Uh… I want to use the bathroom?"

The black-haired girl snorted. "Right. You invade our territory and try to pretend you're innocent. I don't think that's gonna work, bitch." She advanced, her fist raised menacingly. "We're gonna show you what happens to rivals who cross the line."

Orihime looked blank. "I really don't know what you're talking about. I just wanted to use the bathroom. If you want me to leave, I'll leave and go somewhere else." She edged backwards toward the door.

The girl's eyes narrowed. "Don't think you'll get away so easily." She gestured to the other girl. "Menoly. Get behind her."

Menoly complied, but said, "Loly, I think she's probably telling the truth. Let's just kick her out. You know we're not supposed to attack civilians."

Loly sneered. "Do I care? She invaded our territory and she's gotta be punished. That's the rules."

The blonde said, "The rules also say, no attacks on outsiders without direct orders. You know that."

"Shut up!" the black-haired girl shrieked as she rounded on Menoly with a ferocious glare. "Who's gonna know?" She stalked forward until she was standing inches away from Orihime, a nasty grin on her face. "I just don't like the way this one looks."

With a sudden, swift movement, she grabbed a handful of Orihime's hair in one hand, swinging her head down, and punched her in the face with the other. Orihime gasped with pain, bringing her hand up to her mouth. She tasted blood, and when she drew her hand away from her face, it was wet with red liquid.

Loly laughed, and shoved her hard so she fell onto the floor. "Stupid little bitch. Can't even fight." Her eyes narrowed. "Let's see, what should I do to you next?" she mused with a savage grin on her face.

The blonde tugged at her arm. "Loly, that's enough! Just let her go now."

Loly shrugged her off. "I'm only just beginning," she threatened, her eyes alight with inhuman glee.

Orihime looked up in fear as the brunette advanced on her once again. The girl grabbed a big hank of her hair and twisted fiercely, her face so close to Orihime's she could smell the reek of alcohol mixed with some other pungent aromatic on her breath. Orihime drew her breath in tightly and tried to pull away, hoping to avoid the worst of the blow. Her eyes darted around the room. Could she hide somehow, or get away before this crazed girl injured her severely?

Suddenly there was a huge crash as the bathroom door was slammed so hard against the wall that the whole room shook. Her two attackers paused in shock and turned to face the door. A tall, muscular youth with blue hair stomped into the room, glaring in anger. Orihime recognized him as the teen who had been fighting with Kurosaki in the lunchroom. But what was he doing in the girls' bathroom?

"Grimmjow!" gasped Loly. "You're not supposed to be here!"

The blue-haired teen snorted. "How can I help it when you two are making such a racket it can be heard up and down the hall?" His eyes took in the scene with Orihime kneeling on the floor, blood on her face, and Loly's fierce grip on her hair. "Hmph. Having some fun when nobody's watching?"

Moving swiftly, he punched Loly hard in the face, throwing her off Orihime and against the wall, where she landed with a smack and slid down onto the floor amidst the dirty tampons. Menoly moved at the same time to attack Grimmjow from the back, but he casually swung his arm and knocked her into the other wall where she lay stunned. Loly struggled to lift herself up on her elbows. She looked up angrily at Grimmjow, blood streaming from her mouth.

"You bastard! The Captain won't stand for this, you know!" she said, breathing harshly as she wiped her mouth with her fist. "I'm his… _personal_ property… and you can't hurt me this way! He'll kill you!"

Grimmjow grinned sarcastically. "As if the Captain would do anything for a shithead like you." He scowled and indicated Orihime. "You broke his rules. No civilian attacks." He frowned at Loly. "What's wrong with you, dipshit? Are you too drunk or too stupid to remember that?"

Then he turned to Orihime. "And you, dumbass, are you really stupid enough to enter Hueco Mundo territory without permission?"

Orihime gasped, "I'm sorry— I didn't know…"

He rolled his eyes. "What's with all the dipshit idiots today? All right." He grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her up. "Let me give you a lesson, then, bitch." He dragged her to the door. "See that mark?" He pointed to a large, stylized kanji numeral five graffitied on the door in an elaborate style. "That means it's Hueco Mundo territory and you should stay out." He glared at her. "You know what Hueco Mundo is, right?"

Orihime nodded mutely.

"Good." He was grimly satisfied. "You should know that we own this school. You stay out of our way, you'll be okay. But if you cross us…" His eyes narrowed and he drew his finger across his throat. "Get it?"

Terrified, Orihime nodded again.

"Now, get out of here. I'll deal with these bitches." He looked back at Loly and Menoly on the floor of the bathroom. "But it should go without saying that you better not tell anyone what happened here." His eyes narrowed with the threat. "Or you will be in more trouble than you ever want to deal with."

"Yes," gasped Orihime. She dusted off her clothes and grabbed her backpack from where it had fallen on the floor. "I'm going, and I understand." She stumbled toward the exit, and then looked back just as she reached the door. "And… thank you."

Grimmjow glared at her and snorted. "I didn't do it for you, dumbass. I'm just disciplining a couple of shitheads who broke _our_ rules. Now get out of here."

Orihime nodded and fled the room.

XxXxXxX

Because her face was all bloody, she decided it would be better to skip class and go directly to the health center. There, a nice young volunteer tsk'ed over her face.

"What happened to you, dear?" she asked in concern as she examined Orihime's mouth and teeth for damage.

"I, uh, ran into a bathroom door," Orihime explained, her eyes downcast.

The woman raised her eyebrows. But she said nothing as she gently swabbed out Orihime's mouth and daubed disinfectant on her cut lip. "There. No permanent harm done. Just some cuts and lacerations on the inside and outside of your mouth and a little bruising. You'll have to be a little careful with what you eat for a couple of days, but you should heal quickly." She turned to a medicine cabinet in the small examination room, unlocked it, and shook two acetaminophen tablets into her hand.

"Here." She filled a paper cup with water from the small sink and gave them to Orihime. "Take these for the pain and swelling." She watched as Orihime obediently swallowed the pills. "Do you have more of these tablets at home?"

Orihime shook her head. The woman frowned, and then opened one of the drawers on another white cabinet in the room. She took out a tiny cardboard pillbox and shook four more tablets into it. "You can take two more of these every four to six hours."

Orihime nodded her thanks and slipped away to class. The halls were uncharacteristically silent, with only a few students with hall passes moving back and forth. As she rounded a corner near her classroom, a boy loomed out of another hallway directly in front of her.

She gasped in shock and jumped backwards, jittery from her earlier experience. Then she recognized the shock of bright orange hair and the handsome, scowling face and sighed in relief. "Kurosaki-kun! You startled me."

The orange-haired teen glared at the bandage on her chin. "Inoue, I saw you with a bloody mouth earlier, and that bastard Jaggerjaques leaving from the same direction." He narrowed his eyes. "Did he hurt you?"

"Oh!" said Orihime, astonished. "No! No, Kurosaki-kun, he didn't do anything. I just, uh, ran into a bathroom door and hurt my mouth." She pointed at the bandage. "It didn't really hurt, but it was bleeding all over the place, so I went to the health center." She didn't meet his eyes. It was hard to lie to Ichigo, but she didn't want to get more people involved in her trouble.

He frowned at her, suspicious. "You— ran into a bathroom door with your _mouth_?" He sounded incredulous, and Orihime had to admit it sounded like a lame story.

"Yeah, um," she said, looking up and to the left at a light fixture full of bugs on the ceiling and scratching the back of her head. "I, uh, wasn't looking where I was going, and… well, you know how clumsy I am." She gave an embarrassed laugh that sounded artificial even to her.

Ichigo looked at her in suspicion. "You sure Jaggerjaques didn't bother you? Because if he did, I'll pound that bastard into the floor." His fists clenched and his brown eyes almost seemed to change color with his rage.

"No! No, Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime pleaded. "I did, uh, see him, but all he did was just ask if I was okay and, uh, get me a paper towel to wipe up the blood. So you see," she hurried on, "he was actually helpful rather than anything else. And I'm okay now!" she added with an attempt at cheerfulness.

Ichigo crossed his arms over his well-muscled chest and regarded her closely. Finally he sighed and said, "All right. But if he or anybody else bothers you, you let me know, right?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, Kurosaki-kun!" said Orihime with a bright smile. "I really appreciate your help! But, uh, now I need to go to class, since I'm really late…" She looked off down the hall, wondering how much of physics class she had missed already. And they were starting a new unit today on Brownian motion that she had thought was a little confusing.

"Fine." Ichigo stepped away from the wall to let her pass. He was still scowling and there was something lurking in his eyes that terrified her, almost as though there was an animal snarling within.

"Bye, Kurosaki-kun!" she waved as she ran off.

Orihime shuddered as she turned the corner at the end of the hall. It had been an upsetting day. Even Ichigo, normally so comforting, had seemed somehow threatening. It was as though she had suddenly gotten a glimpse of an underlying savagery that lay hidden beneath the normal daily life of their high school. It was bad enough that there were gangs protecting their territory— she promised herself that she would never forget that Hueco Mundo mark— but if even Ichigo was acting strange, it was terrifying. He had been her friend for a long time and she had never seen him like this.

She was almost glad to open the door to her physics class and have to face her teacher's frown at her lateness.

XxXxXxX

Ichigo scowled as Orihime turned the corner to her class. Something was off about her story. That bastard Jaggerjaques was up to something again. He always seemed to be around whenever something bad was going down. But because of the blue-haired teen's connections to Hueco Mundo, he always seemed to evade getting disciplined for his actions. Sometimes Ichigo felt that it seemed to be up to him to single-handedly protect some of the more vulnerable citizens of Karakura Town from Jaggerjaques' and his buddies' nefarious schemes. His eyes narrowed as he remembered what he had seen yesterday afternoon.

He had been coming home from his part-time job, walking briskly along streets mostly deserted in the sleepy weekend afternoon. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of blue hair across the way, and had glanced over to see Jaggerjaques and Nnoitra Jiruga moving into the bushes near an apartment building. With a flare of shock, he realized it was Inoue's apartment building. Stealthily, he crossed the street to follow them, but by the time he reached the building, they were gone. He prowled around the building for a few more minutes, but couldn't find any trace of them, so finally he gave up and went home.

Then, this morning, when he had seen Jaggerjaques coming out of the corridor after Orihime had been injured, he had been surprised at the incredible blaze of anger that had risen in his chest at the thought that the bastard might be targeting Orihime in some way. It had taken a while to calm down, and he still thought that the next time he saw Jaggerjaques he was going to deck him anyway. Orihime had been his friend for a long time, and somehow, she always seemed to be getting into accidents or various kinds of trouble. Someone needed to protect her.

Orihime's face stayed in his mind, her image somehow unshakable. Irritated, he wondered why. She was a friend, nothing more. In any event, he didn't have time to get interested in girls right now; he was busy writing applications to various scholarships so he could go to college and get the hell out of this lousy neighborhood. He needed to study and keep his grades up. He scowled more furiously and headed back to class.

XxXxXxX

Aizen was waiting for Orihime at her locker after school. She felt a leap of excitement in her chest when she saw him leaning casually against the wall, his shirt partially unbuttoned over his sculpted chest, his thick brown hair, messy as ever, framing his beautiful eyes under his glasses.

"Hi!" she said cheerily as she came up to him. His eyes narrowed as he saw the bandage on her chin and the bruising around her lips.

"What happened to you?" he asked, a concerned look on his face.

"Oh, it's nothing." Orihime was getting tired of her own story by now. "I ran into a bathroom door."

Aizen raised his eyebrows at her. "Really?" he asked skeptically.

"Yeah," Orihime sighed. "Nobody seems to believe me," she said with an annoyed expression.

"It _is_ a rather lame excuse." Aizen was amused at her exasperation. But to her relief, he didn't pursue it further. "I wanted to ask you if you'd like to go out to dinner on Friday."

Orihime started pulling books out of her backpack and shoving them in her locker. Her friends had told her at lunchtime that she should play hard to get, tell Aizen she was busy the next time he asked her out, so that he didn't think she was easy. But now that he was standing here asking her, she found the idea of playing such a game repulsive. She didn't want to deny the thrill she felt when he indicated his interest in her. Why should she lie to him?

So she turned to face him directly, a brilliant smile on her face. "I'd love to, Aizen-san."

He met her smile with an answering one. "That's wonderful. I'll come by your apartment and pick you up at six, then."

"Sounds great!" Orihime grinned.

As he turned to go, he said over his shoulder, "And remember, don't forget math club on Wednesday in room 325!"

"How could I forget?" replied Orihime.

XxXxXxX

Grimmjow was half-dozing in the back row of his remedial English class, ignoring the teacher going on about the difference between nouns and verbs, adjectives and adverbs. He yawned ostentatiously. Contrary to popular belief, the blue-haired delinquent was not unintelligent. However, he had an utter lack of interest in anything that didn't translate into immediate advantage on the streets. He knew there was no possible need for him to know about the parts of speech in the English language. All he needed to know about language was how to cuss out his opponents in a fight.

A freshman entered the class with a note for the teacher, looking unbelievably young and timid. Grimmjow found it hard to believe he could have ever been that young, and smirked.

The teacher looked up from reading the note. "Grimmjow Jaggerjaques," she said, "you are being sent to the principal's office at once." She frowned at him. She disapproved of him and his behavior, and frankly, Grimmjow felt the same about her. To him, it was a mark of achievement to be a thorn in the side of the school administration.

Grimmjow got up with a swagger, a smirk on his face. One of his friends in the back row muttered a comment that he didn't quite hear, but the scorn in his tone was unmistakable, so he responded, "Don't get jealous that I'm so important the principal asks my advice now." His friend snorted as Grimmjow swaggered up the aisle.

The tiny freshman escorted him to the principal's office, looking scared. Grimmjow took pity on him and kept silence throughout the walk. He wondered what transgression he had been caught at this time. There were so many it was too hard for him to keep track.

But when the principal's door opened and Grimmjow walked in, he was surprised to see the man sitting behind the principal's desk was not old man Barragan, but Sousuke Aizen. The brown-haired teen was relaxing in the high-backed leather chair, a faint smile on his face as he met Grimmjow's eyes. He had removed his glasses and his face looked very different from that of the quiet, straight-A student his teachers knew. His hair was swept back from his face except for one strand, and there was an expression of calm arrogance on his face. An aura of power and command seemed to surround him and fill the room, almost making it hard for Grimmjow to breathe. There was a faint click behind Grimmjow and he looked behind him to see Kaname Tousen closing the door and Gin Ichimaru leaning against the wall beside it, eyes narrowed to slits as usual.

Grimmjow swallowed. Aizen's glasses were the signal. When he wore them, he was in his "good student" persona, and Grimmjow was supposed to pretend he didn't know him, not even to look at him. They were expected to move in completely different social circles, where Aizen would never associate with the likes of him. But when the glasses were gone, it meant the mask was off, and Aizen was in his other persona, that of the feared "taichou" of Hueco Mundo, the absolute ruler of the most powerful and ruthless gang in the city, and the man who held Grimmjow's and many others' lives in the palm of his hand. Although Grimmjow had utterly no concerns over Barragan's opinion of him, it was a completely different story with Aizen. He felt his heart start to race. A private interview with Aizen was never good news. The space between his shoulder blades prickled as he stood with his back to Tousen and Ichimaru, both of whom were very good with a knife.

He moved forward to stand in front of the desk. "You wanted to see me?" he asked, schooling the tone of his voice to deference.

"Yes." Aizen's voice was calm as usual, giving no clue as to the state of his mind. "Please have a seat, Grimmjow," he said, indicating the chair in front of his desk.

As Grimmjow settled himself, Aizen spoke politely as ever. "Thank you for coming to see me. I have some questions that I hope you might be able to help me with, Grimmjow."

Grimmjow could feel the sweat start out on his forehead and he forced himself to appear calm. "Yeah, sure."

"I understand there was something of— an altercation with Orihime Inoue yesterday morning that you were involved with," Aizen said quietly.

Grimmjow was puzzled. He didn't recognize the name, and he cast his memory over what had happened that morning but drew a blank. Aizen saw his baffled expression, and his eyes narrowed. He picked up a small photograph that was lying on the desk in front of him and tossed it to the edge in front of Grimmjow. "This girl."

The blue-haired teen picked up the photo. The girl's face was turned toward the camera, looking over her shoulder and laughing. She had huge, beautiful grey eyes, and masses of auburn hair falling over her shoulder. His heart chilled. It was the girl he had met in the bathroom yesterday, the girl Loly and Menoly were beating up. What was Aizen's interest in the fight? Had Loly made good on her threat to tattle to Aizen, and was this the result? It would be surprising if Aizen cared that he had given Loly and Menoly a good thrashing; he never had before when Grimmjow "disciplined" lower-ranking members of the gang for rule-breaking. Or was this Inoue really a rival gang member encroaching on their territory rather than the innocent civilian he had taken her for? In that case, he would be in big trouble.

He took a deep breath, and tried to order the events in his mind carefully, so he could describe what happened clearly. Aizen did listen to explanations, and if his subordinates could demonstrate that they had only been taking initiative in clear support of Aizen's own interests, he could be forgiving of error.

He dropped the photo and gave Aizen a level stare. "Yes. I heard a racket coming from the bathroom on the first floor of the far end of building 3, so I went to check it out. I saw Loly and Menoly beating up this girl, who said she had walked into the bathroom by accident. I told them to stop, that we didn't attack outsiders." He took a breath. Aizen's face continued to be neutral. "In my opinion, Loly was just looking for someone to have some fun with. I guess she was too high to remember your rules about outsiders; she was pretty wasted. I mean, this girl really was just clueless and had walked in by mistake. She didn't even recognize the Hueco Mundo mark on the door. I pointed it out to her and warned her not to tell anybody, and she left. I gave Loly and Menoly a little lesson to teach them to obey orders next time; then I left."

He stopped and waited, heart pounding, for Aizen's response. The other teen appeared to ponder his story for a moment.

"My sources tell me the girl was bleeding from the mouth when she left the bathroom." Aizen's voice was quiet. "Did you have anything to do with that?"

Grimmjow gaped, confused at Aizen's interest in this detail. "Me? No. Loly punched her and was roughing her up, that's all. I didn't touch her." Aizen's eyes bored into Grimmjow's, scrutinizing his face. The silence in the room stretched out and became uncomfortable, but Grimmjow didn't dare break it. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he had been in Hueco Mundo long enough to realize that his life was at risk now, over something that had somehow angered Aizen.

His primary defense now was the fact that he was telling the truth. Aizen sometimes appeared to have an uncanny ability to read people's faces, extracting their emotions and even their inmost thoughts from the slightest movements of their facial muscles. Grimmjow swallowed again, convulsively, but kept his face impassive. In this particular case, Aizen's ability should work in his advantage. Grimmjow's rebellious nature had led him into trouble many times with Aizen, yet the other man's punishments had always stopped short of ordering him killed, something Grimmjow knew Aizen would do without a qualm if he truly thought Grimmjow were disloyal. Because Grimmjow respected strength and power clearly greater than his own, he had always remained fundamentally loyal to Aizen. Now, as he sweated, in judgment before the other teen, he hoped all this was visible on his face.

"Very well." Aizen finally broke the silence. "Thank you for your information." He leaned back in the chair, propping his elbow on the armrest and resting his chin on his hand. "I have new orders for you," he continued in his polite, quiet tone of voice. "This girl, Orihime Inoue, is to be placed on the list of individuals under Hueco Mundo's protection. She is not to be harmed, nor is harm to be allowed to befall her in any way." He eyed Grimmjow, who continued to keep a deadpan expression on his face. "Please feel free to pass the word on to other members you should encounter."

Grimmjow nodded, still a little mystified by the situation. He knew that there were a number of people under the gang's protection for various reasons, due to ransom payments, deals, or other purposes that suited Aizen's often convoluted plans. He also knew Aizen would not want to hear questions about his orders, so he merely nodded, stood up, and turned to leave.

As he was about to open the door, Aizen's quiet voice stopped him. "Oh, and Grimmjow? What about that other matter?"

Grimmjow paused, hand on the door. Then he turned back to face Aizen, relaxed and grinning now. "Oh, that's all been taken care of. Everything was done as you ordered."

Aizen nodded. "Very good."

After Aizen dismissed him, he began the walk through the mostly empty halls of the school back to his classroom. He wondered what arrangement Inoue had with Hueco Mundo. She looked too clueless to be in high-level negotiations with someone like Aizen.

As he walked, he remembered once again her face in the bathroom that morning as she had looked up at him from the floor, her hair in Loly's grasp, how her expression of bewildered innocence had imprinted itself on his memory. He had instantly made the decision to intervene, and now that he thought about it, it was surprising that he had gotten involved. But there had been something about Inoue's face and the look in her eyes above her bleeding mouth that had gotten him enraged at Loly. He had never liked the bitch and her airs anyway. He wondered who Inoue really was, what secret lay behind that ingenuous expression.

Then he shrugged and swaggered back into his class. It was none of his business in any event.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

(Originally posted 12/31/10.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime plopped down beside Tatsuki at their usual lunch table in the cafeteria. "Whew!" she sighed. "That physics quiz today was tough! What did you think of it?"

Tatsuki shrugged. "I think I passed; that's all I can hope for." She scrutinized Orihime's face carefully. "I'm glad to see that you've healed completely from your _accident _earlier this week."

Orihime flushed. "Yeah. I told you it wasn't a big deal." She bent her head and became very interested in pulling her sandwich out of her bag. Tatsuki snorted.

Chizuru arrived, scowling and out of breath, and dumped her backpack on the table with a loud thump. "Why do the teachers in this school think they have to set a new world record for homework? We're seniors. They should know we need to be working on our college applications."

Orihime looked back and forth at each of her friends. "Wow! You're both in bad moods today. Cheer up!" She gave them a happy, bright smile.

Tatsuki grimaced at her. "Why? Because the weather is so beautiful today?" Her voice heavy with sarcasm, she gestured at the window where a cold rain was sleeting heavily down. Orihime put her hands on her hips and glared at Tatsuki.

Chizuru groaned and rolled her eyes. "No, Orihime is happy because she's _in love_." She took advantage of Orihime's distracted glare at Tatsuki to grab her from behind and fondle her breasts. "She knows she's gonna have someone do this to her soon— Ow!"

Tatsuki had moved lightning-fast and punched her so hard she fell off the chair. Putting a hand to her ribs, she frowned at Tatsuki as she jumped back to her feet. "I thought you were done with that now that Orihime has a boyfriend," she whined as she got back into the chair, rubbing her side.

"I'll never be done with protecting Orihime," Tatsuki said smugly over a bite of cheese sandwich.

"How are you going to protect her from her boyfriend?" retorted Chizuru as she pulled out her lunch and began to eat. She leered at Orihime again but kept a watchful eye on Tatsuki. "And speaking of boyfriends, I hear you have a date tonight. Are you going to tell us about it?"

Orihime's face pinked. "Aizen-san asked me out for dinner. We're going to a restaurant."

"Which one?" asked Tatsuki with idle curiosity.

"He said it was called something like La Cigar or something," said Orihime, pulling out a plastic container of bean paste and some crackers. She began spreading the bean paste on the crackers with a plastic knife.

Chizuru's jaw dropped. "_La Cigale_?" she asked, astonished. "He's taking you to the fanciest French restaurant in town?"

"Uh, yeah, he did say it was a French restaurant," Orihime acknowledged around a mouthful of bean paste. "Mmm, this is so good."

"Wow, where does he get his money? Is he from a rich family?" Chizuru was flabbergasted. "That place costs more than a couple hundred dollars per person for dinner!"

"No," Orihime said, "he's no different from the rest of us. But he has a part-time job," she explained.

Tatsuki raised her eyebrows. "Some part-time job," she commented dryly. "I know mine doesn't pay well enough to treat people to dinner at fancy restaurants."

Orihime stopped spreading the bean paste, knife poised over the last cracker. "Oh! I didn't think of that!" Her face wrinkled with concern. "Maybe I should ask him to take me to McDonalds instead. I don't want him to waste money on me."

Chizuru groaned. "Orihime… you don't take someone out for a romantic date to McDonalds."

"No," Tatsuki concurred. "You don't want to insult him. He obviously wants to do something special for you. You have to go along with it."

"Go with it and have fun!" said Chizuru with a grin.

The first bell rang, and Tatsuki started stuffing the last of her sandwich in her mouth and gulping her milk. "Yeah. You should enjoy it. I doubt he'll be able to afford to take you to places that nice very often. Enjoy it while it lasts!" She stood up, balling her trash into a pile and sticking it back in her lunch sack. "Gotta go— there's a test in math, but there's not enough chairs for everyone in the class, so I gotta get there early. I hate taking tests sitting on the floor. See you later!"

Chizuru hoisted her backpack off the table with a grunt. As she started to walk away, she called back over her shoulder, "Orihime, the forecast is for it to clear up later tonight. You should have a nice night… and the moon is full." She paused to grin at her friend. "Make sure he takes you to some romantic moonlit spot."

Orihime flushed again and crammed the remainder of her bean paste into her mouth before running off to class.

XxXxXxX

Orihime opened the door to Aizen that evening and her eyes widened because he looked so different. He was wearing a dark charcoal gray wool suit over a white linen shirt and dark maroon tie, and it transformed him. He no longer looked like an attractive teenager; he was a man, exuding power and elegance. The stylishly tailored suit outlined his long limbs and subtly emphasized the grace and beauty of his body, while setting off his narrow, aesthetic face with its high cheekbones, full mouth, and shock of thick brown hair. Aware she was staring, Orihime blushed and awkwardly stepped aside to let him enter.

Aizen's lips quirked in a knowing smile. He had been staring at her and her outfit as well. Orihime did not have spare money for clothes; the small allowance she received from her relatives covered food and rent and not much more. In months when she had unexpected expenses, she often had to cut down on food purchases. In one particularly bad month, she had had to subsist almost entirely on the free school breakfasts and lunches. It seemed she was always hungry, so she always bought food first, clothing second. As a result, she shopped exclusively at used clothing stores, looking for bargains even there.

Nevertheless, one of her talents was an eye for clothing, including fit and color. She had discovered that if she took the bus to the Goodwill store in the wealthy suburbs, she could find an excellent selection of inexpensive, quality clothing. The rich didn't seem to mind getting rid of clothes as soon as they got tired of them and well before they wore out. Their rejects were Orihime's gain.

She really owned only one dress she could consider elegant, as she didn't have many occasions that required such an outfit. The dress was black; she had originally purchased it to attend a funeral. It was of a simple cut, but the soft jersey clung to her body in a way that she knew enhanced the contours of her body, subtly flattering her well-endowed figure. With its demure neckline, long sleeves and full mid-calf-length skirt, it was suitable for formal events; but someone had once told her it was sexy.

The expression in Aizen's eyes was almost one of hunger. She had never really noticed an expression like that directed at her before, and it made her feel odd but somehow excited.

"Inoue-san," he said in his deep, rich voice, "you are spectacular in that dress." The resonance in his voice made her tingle. His lips curled in a pleased smile as his eyes traveled up and down her body. He offered his arm to her and they walked down to the car.

He drove sedately on the way to the restaurant, and Orihime was touched by his consideration for her feelings. A parking spot opened up just in front of the entrance as they drove up, and Aizen pulled in smoothly and walked around the car to open the door for Orihime.

The woman who checked their reservation was dressed more elegantly than most people Orihime had ever known. Exquisitely made-up, her dark hair wound into an elaborate knot on her head, she led them to a table for two in a private nook, where a waiter in a tuxedo pulled out a chair for Orihime. She felt awkward and unsure, and ended up sitting down too soon on the chair, but the waiter handled it gracefully, smoothly pushing her chair all the way in to the table covered with a white damask tablecloth. The long fall of the tablecloth brushed against her knees, and she lifted it up nervously, afraid she might clumsily pull it off the table and make a scene.

Her eyes darted around nervously. Everything was so classy here, and she was just a poor kid from Karakura. She was certain that in a moment one of those elegant waiters would find them out, and they would be evicted from the restaurant. What if she used the wrong fork? She looked anxiously at the three differently-shaped forks in the place setting and the multiple plates.

Aizen was from her own neighborhood, and he was as poor as she was; why did he appear so at ease in this high-class environment? He leaned over and whispered in her ear. "What is it, Inoue-san?"

She gestured at the silverware and whispered back, "I don't know how to use all this."

He smiled at her flustered face. "Please don't worry. I'll show you everything, I promise." He took her hand reassuringly.

The waiter handed them menus, and Orihime's eyes widened as she glanced over hers. She had never eaten most of the selections, and didn't even know what half of the entrees were.

Aizen leaned in to her and murmured, "Would you object if I ordered for you? I'm familiar with many of their specialties, and I believe I can make choices you'd like."

"Uh, sure! Go ahead," agreed Orihime gratefully.

He chose a caviar appetizer and a main course of roast lobster with chanterelle mushrooms. Orihime wondered what they would taste like. She had already made good inroads on the basket of bread, freshly made, warm and delicious spread with pats of unsalted butter from a pewter dish. At least now she knew how a butter knife was shaped.

Once more, she leaned over to Aizen and whispered, "Is it okay if I eat so much bread?"

His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Eat as much as you like, my dear. We can ask for more if you finish it." He laid a warm hand over hers. "Please relax. This isn't a test. The restaurant exists to serve its customers; they want you to have an enjoyable evening."

He sounded calm and experienced giving their orders to the waiter. Then, to Orihime's surprise, he picked up the wine list and perused it lazily. "I'll have a glass of the Navarro Chardonnay," he told the waiter. He raised his eyebrows at Orihime. "Would you like a glass of wine?"

"N-no, thank you," she said with a panicky edge to her voice, not wanting to mention they were underage in front of the waiter. However, he merely nodded and wrote down their orders.

It was time for another nervous whisper. "Aren't you going to get in trouble asking for wine?"

Aizen's amusement intensified. "My dear, you are such an innocent." Why did everyone say that to her, she wondered with mild annoyance. "There will be no objections to such a purchase at a restaurant of this caliber."

Sure enough, the wine arrived without any fanfare, and Aizen raised his glass to her in a toast as though he ordered wine every day. "I would suggest you try a glass, but I don't want to make you nervous," he said with a smile as Orihime shook her head again vigorously.

The caviar arrived, a multitude of tiny golden translucent spheres artistically arranged on a bed of cubed salmon and watercress, served with a mother-of-pearl spoon. She slipped the odd-shaped spoon into her mouth and felt the smooth spheres' salty burst on her tongue. To her surprise, it was delicious, and she had soon polished it off.

After the lobster arrived, she hoped she wasn't embarrassing herself or Aizen by eating too rapidly or in the wrong way, but he pressed her hand and reassured her again that she was doing fine. He had been watching her over his glass of wine, with a look in his eyes she couldn't quite decipher, but it appeared to be approving. She sighed and started to relax as the delicious food filled her stomach.

She finally burst out, "Aizen-san, how do you know so much about this restaurant, and these kinds of food? I mean, you're just my age, and you're—" She broke off suddenly, embarrassed.

Aizen smiled. "I'm poor like you, you mean?" He brought his glass to his lips, sipped. "It's quite simple really." He shrugged. "I read."

She was puzzled. "Is reading enough?" she asked, almost wondering if he was mocking her.

He raised his eyebrows at her, again with that deeply amused look in his eyes. "Reading is an extraordinarily efficient method of acquiring information," he said softly. "Spoken conversation usually runs around one hundred fifty words per minute. The average adult reads at two hundred fifty words a minute." He gave her a very charming smile. "I read at one thousand words per minute."

"Oh, you mean you're a speed reader, then?" she asked, feeling a bit out of her depth at the turn the conversation had taken.

His lips twisted slightly in scorn. "No, claims of speed reading are usually scams. The so-called speed readers are primarily skimming. No, I'm talking about true reading with full comprehension." He gave her a look she remembered from their math club sessions, using deliberately intellectual phrasing as if to challenge her. "But you're right that it's never really enough. There are inherent limits on the speed of information acquisition by humans. No matter how much innate capability you have, you can never overcome the limitations of your own synapses. That is where the growth stops." He indicated the last bit of food on his plate. "Would you like to try some of this?"

She complied, closing her eyes for a moment over the salty, creamy blend of the concoction. "So, in learning to read more quickly, you were trying to reach your own limits?"

"Not only that." He offered her an easy smile. "I am fascinated by limits, and by the means to transcend those limits. I've wondered… is there no way to grow and surpass your innate limitations? We're only just learning about the function of the brain, and how chemicals can affect that functioning." He leaned back and gave her an appraising glance. "Part of my interest in chemistry is in the discovery of substances that can transform the human brain, which can perhaps break down the boundaries between humans… and gods." His eyes gleamed behind his glasses.

Orihime swallowed and stared at him. "Are you saying that you think humans can become gods?"

"No." He shifted in his chair and studied her. "I think it's possible for certain humans to achieve god-like qualities under certain circumstances. Those who have the right potential." His eyes were half-lidded and his voice compelling. She found she couldn't look away.

"But— how can that be possible?"

"With the right understanding of human brain chemistry, why should it not be possible? After all, the human brain is an amazing achievement. It's been said before." He lifted his glass to her, quoting. "_What a piece of work is man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable._"

She met the challenge in his eyes and completed the Hamlet quote. "_In action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god._"

"Exactly." He smiled at her, eyes gleaming with approval. "You like Shakespeare?"

"Oh, very much," she enthused. Then her face turned serious again as she considered the implications of his statements. "So… essentially you're saying that you believe we can what— enhance human intelligence, even give humans superpowers— with chemicals?"

He wiped his lips delicately with his napkin, replaced it in his lap. "I am certain that it is only a matter of time before we find the substance that can remove the barriers between human and god. All that's needed is some experimentation."

"So, you want to become a scientist in order to discover this? A chemist?"

He smiled at her. "That is one of my goals. I do find research in this area… fascinating."

XxXxXxX

After the most extravagant dinner Orihime had ever eaten in her life, followed by an incredibly delicious dessert of passion fruit and mango napoleon, Aizen said he wanted to take her to another favorite spot of his. True to the forecast, the clouds had parted and the sky blazed with a luminous full moon and a heavy dusting of brilliant stars. He drove carefully and smoothly without her even asking, smiling at her warmly and holding her hand when he wasn't shifting.

They parked on a quiet hillside overlooking the reservoir. The dark, still water reflected the stars and blended with the city lights far below. Tall trees ringed the meadow around them. When she rolled down her window, the spicy scent of fall leaves mingled with the richer aroma of wildflowers and grasses from the meadow. The air was cool and moist after the day's rain. She inhaled deeply, feeling relaxed, full of wonderful food and profoundly happy.

"Thank you, Aizen-san, for that amazing dinner."

"It was my pleasure. I don't think I've enjoyed a meal more in quite a while; you are the most stimulating company." He smiled, picked up her hand, and brushed it across his lips; it made her tingle. "And not only are you a pleasure to converse with, you are an absolute delight to the eyes."

Orihime flushed again, and was glad the light was dim in the car. "Oh, I'm really nothing special."

"You're completely wrong there. You are beyond special. Please don't tell me again that you still don't realize your own beauty." He caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles, and unconsciously, she lifted her face into his touch. "Every part of you is beautiful."

She lowered her eyes and said nothing, but her heart was pounding in her chest, so fast and strongly that she thought he surely would hear it.

He stroked her hair with one hand. "Your hair— it fascinates me. That color is like nothing else in the world, glowing like a flame, a flame that fires my soul. Your eyes are the color of a thunderstorm that has torn into my life, a great wind that has turned everything I've ever believed and understood upside down. But then your lips—" he shook his head. "Your lips are softer and more delicate than the petals of a rose. You have such power to overwhelm me… with your gentleness." He paused, hesitating. "When I look at you, I'm reminded of what it's like to feel… deeply. What it's like to care for another human being, more than anything else in the world." His voice was low but intense.

She laughed, embarrassed. "Aizen-san, you are a poet."

"No," he said. His face was in shadow. "You are poetry." He gently took her face in both his warm hands and brought it closer to his. Orihime realized he was going to kiss her, and for a moment she panicked. Somewhere inside, she realized, she was still holding onto the hope that her first kiss would be from Kurosaki.

But here she was, on a moonlit hillside on a beautiful clear night, with an attractive and intriguing man who was interested in her… She suddenly felt reckless. What was she waiting for, anyway? As Tatsuki said, who knew how long Kurosaki would hesitate before asking her out. Maybe he wasn't interested in her. Maybe he was gay. Who knew?

In any event, she realized she didn't want to wait any more for her first kiss. She looked up at the beautiful face inches away from hers and closed her eyes, slowly tilting her face upward. Her lips parted slightly.

She felt the warm touch of lips on hers, as he caressed her with his mouth. He was gentle and slow, slipping one hand behind her head, running his fingers through her hair. His other hand moved around her back, pulling her closer, and she felt the warmth of his body against hers. His lips opened and he softly kissed each side of her mouth, and she felt his tongue gently licking her lips, and then slipping inside her mouth to meet her tongue. She felt heat rising through her body like warm water and she pressed her body against his almost instinctively. His arms tightened on her. She could feel the blood pulsing through her veins, alive in her fingertips, her face, her lips, every place where her skin was touching his; she felt as though she were going to fly away into the night sky in his arms. She felt her entire existence narrow to his kiss, and she relaxed completely and sighed.

XxXxXxX

Ichigo was scowling as he entered the school cafeteria. There had been an argument with one of his teachers, and then he'd had to switch lockers because his old one had gotten a big dent in it when he smashed Jaggerjaques' head into it the other day. As a result, he was late and the lunch line snaked halfway across the big room. He grimaced as he got into line. If he was unlucky, he'd end up being late for history that afternoon, and there was an important test in the class that day.

Waiting in line, he let his gaze idly roam around the big, noisy room filled with chattering students. Unbidden, his eyes moved first to the far corner of the room where Tatsuki, Chizuru, and Orihime normally sat. To his surprise, there was a fourth person sitting at their table. His eyes widened as he recognized the tousled brown hair and trim body of Sousuke Aizen, class nerd and senior class president. What was Aizen doing sitting at Inoue's table? As he stared in absolute shock, Aizen laughed at something one of the other girls was saying and then slipped his arm possessively around Orihime. Rather than pulling away, Orihime smiled up at him and leaned into his embrace.

The room suddenly dimmed around Ichigo as a red haze filled his vision and a roaring sounded in his ears. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of their table and Tatsuki was looking up at him with a questioning expression on her face.

"Hey, Ichigo-kun," she said, smiling. "What's up?"

Aizen and Orihime turned around to face him, Orihime giving him a bright smile. "Hello, Kurosaki-kun," she sang out happily.

Aizen looked mildly up at him from behind his glasses, but Ichigo could see a glint of triumph and possessiveness in his brown eyes half-hidden behind the lenses. His anger flared and he wanted nothing more than to punch those glasses off the other teen's face, to wipe the faint smirk off his mouth. He could almost feel the man's face under his knuckles as he clenched his fists by his sides. He took a deep breath. He couldn't believe the depth of his reaction. He had to get it under control.

Ichigo ran a hand through his orange hair, making it stick out even more all over the place. "Uh, Inoue," he mumbled, "could I speak to you for a moment?"

"Sure, Kurosaki-kun," she said cheerfully, standing up. Aizen let his arm slip away from her, capturing one of her hands in his and giving it a small squeeze. She looked down at him and smiled as their eyes met.

Ichigo's temper flared again but he tamped it down as he and Orihime stepped away from the table, and she looked up at him, her beautiful grey eyes wide and questioning. "What is it, Kurosaki-kun? Has something happened?"

"Huh? What— no. Nothing's happened."

"You look so upset, Kurosaki-kun," she said, her face suffused with concern.

"No, it's nothing," he repeated. "Just, uh, had a problem last period and got to the cafeteria late." He gazed down into the eyes which he had known so well for so long, and put a hand to the back of his head, hesitating, as she gazed at him in puzzlement.

"Then what's wrong?" she asked.

"Inoue," he blurted out, "would you like to go to the Halloween Dance with me?" He stopped short, surprised by what he had said. Wasn't he certain that he didn't want to get involved with anyone now in this critical last year of school when so much was on the line? He looked in panic at Orihime's face, unable to read the expression on it. He didn't want to give her false hopes. "I mean, just as friends," he stuttered.

But Orihime's face had become sad. She shook her head sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, Kurosaki-kun. I would have very much enjoyed going to the dance with you— as friends." She reached out her hand to him and then drew it back. "But Aizen-san has already asked me— and I said yes." She had a concerned expression on her face, still trying to comfort him. "I'm very sorry. Perhaps some other time?" she said hesitantly.

As he stood there in shock, not saying anything for a while, he saw she was getting uncomfortable, so he roused himself. "Uh, yeah, sure, Inoue. That's, uh, okay." He stood there, frozen, feeling a cold wave wash over him as she returned to the table.

Tatsuki was watching him, eyes narrowed. Then she got up and walked over to where he stood, unmoving, oblivious to the crowds of students passing by. He was still standing, staring at the back of Orihime's head when a sudden, hard punch to his face made his vision blur and his ears ring.

"Hey!" he snarled at Tatsuki as she glared back. "What was that for?"

"Stop staring at her, idiot!" Tatsuki had both hands on her hips. "Didn't I warn you that you needed to ask her out soon or someone else would snap her up? And who said that he wasn't interested in anyone, hmmm?"

"I—" Ichigo stopped himself and glared at his friend. "I'm _not_ interested in anyone," he insisted. "And of course Inoue can date anyone she likes." He paused to catch his breath. "Just not— him."

"Why not Aizen-san?" inquired Tatsuki fiercely. "He's a good student, a kind person… and he treats her right, Ichigo."

_Unlike you_, was left unspoken between them. Ichigo punched his fist into his hand, feeling impotent. "There's— something off about him. I don't trust him." He glared at the back of Aizen's head.

Tatsuki shook her head in puzzlement. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. He just seems—" He paused and let out his breath slowly. "He seems _dangerous_ to me somehow. I just don't feel Inoue will be safe around him."

_He had been twelve years old that night, wandering along the river bank as usual, staring out over the oily darkness reflecting dancing fragments of city lights. The same way his tongue couldn't avoid probing the spot where he had lost a tooth, he felt compelled to return to this spot, to relive the memories he had of his mother, her sweet voice, her constant smile, the way he always felt safe when he was with her. Even though all those memories brought him now was pain._

_As he walked, he heard voices raised in taunting, and his hackles rose. Three large shapes in the darkness ahead were surrounding a smaller shape. They had their hands raised as if they were carrying weapons. Ichigo increased his pace to reach the group more quickly._

_Three large, burly men were menacing a brown-haired boy of about his age. As he came closer, he saw that all four had knives, and he recognized the boy as his classmate, Sousuke Aizen, a quiet, intellectual youth who always faded into the background in class. The two of them had both lived in the neighborhood since birth, and had gone to the same preschool. But Aizen was so quiet he was easy to miss. Seeing him brawling with knives in a street fight was the last thing Ichigo would have expected of him. He wondered briefly what Aizen had done to merit an attack, and whether the bookish youth really knew how to use a knife._

_But there wasn't really time to ponder. Ichigo had known as soon as he saw the group that he would come to the other boy's defense. His instinct to protect others was so fierce that he never questioned it any more. He and Aizen eyed each other briefly._

_Then he said,_ "_It's easier to defeat multiple attackers if you fight them back to back." He turned to confront the three men, and the two boys faced in opposite directions as the others attacked._

_Even then, he had been a strong fighter. He had been surprised to see how good Aizen was at fighting as well; he was unexpectedly skilled and had the fastest reflexes Ichigo had ever seen. It had not taken long before the three men were lying on the ground, groaning. The two boys looked at each other and then in unspoken agreement took off downriver together._

_As they ran side by side, Aizen had asked, "Why? Why did you help me?"_

_Ichigo scowled. Wasn't it obvious? "Why not? You looked like you needed some help."_

_They ran for a while in silence. As they stopped to catch their breath at the point where the path veered away from the river, Aizen said suddenly, "This is where your mother was killed, wasn't it." _

_Ichigo glared at him, then looked away. "Yes."_

_"__Do you know who killed her?"_

_There was silence for a while. Ichigo wondered briefly why he was discussing such intimate details with someone he didn't even know. "No. I never saw them."_

_"__Didn't you ever try to find out who they were?"_

_Ichigo glanced at the other boy, puzzled that he was behaving completely differently from in class. "What's the point of that? The best I can do is try to protect other people who are in trouble."_

_Aizen seemed to be thinking that over. Finally he said, "Well, thank you. Those guys looked like they were going to kill me."_

_"Don't worry about it. As a matter of fact, let's just both forget this ever happened."_

_"__Agreed." The fact was that they had seriously injured three men. The police were likely to be involved, and it was always best to stay out of trouble. "We were never here."_

_The two had split up and gone their separate ways._

_But Ichigo had noticed after that that Aizen had become— somehow— aware of him. He would catch him watching him at odd moments in class. Aizen was quiet and had few friends, and Ichigo wondered several times if he should approach the other boy, try to get to know him. There always seemed to be an aura of solitude and sadness around him, and it made Ichigo feel the urge to reach out to him. But something about Aizen made him uneasy, so he always hesitated. He would remember that odd gleam in Aizen's eyes behind his glasses that night on the riverbank as they fought the three men, his practiced moves with his fists and knife… and wonder. Ichigo had been a street brawler for as long as he could remember, but he thought he knew all the other kids who fought on the streets. Aizen had the reputation of a bookish nerd who never lifted a hand to anyone. It was hard to reconcile that image with Ichigo's memory of that night on the riverbank._

_And then, of course, there had been Aizen's suspicious victory over him in the election for senior class president… he still didn't understand what had happened there._

The black-haired girl was shaking her head with exasperation. "Ichigo, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. I think the only danger here is the green-eyed monster rearing its head. Aizen-san has only been kind and gentle with Orihime." She stepped back and crossed her arms over the chest. "If you're not going to ask her out, at the very least you can't object to her going out with someone else." Her eyes were threatening, and he got ready to block another punch. They stared at each other, and his eyes were the first to drop.

"Yeah." His breath huffed out of him. "You're right." He frowned. "I won't bother her any more, Tatsuki." He scowled with renewed ferocity. "I better get back in line for lunch." He turned his back on her and stalked off to the lunch line.

Tatsuki stared at his retreating back. "Ichigo, you idiot," she murmured under her breath. "You've always had lousy timing. Why couldn't you have talked to her a week ago?" Then she shrugged and went back to her chair. He'd made his own decision a long time ago and would have to live with the consequences.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6  
**

**A/N:** Lots of echoes from canon in this chapter (but nothing beyond manga chapter 371).

And this story now has an illustration! The talented **Kelsey L Leigh** drew a picture of teenage Aizen as he might be seen in this story, on deviantArt: muffinivorous .deviantart #/d35104y (remove the spaces for the link).

(Originally posted 1/7/11.)

* * *

A bitter wind blew through the sparsely-lit downtown streets as Orihime hurried to the bus stop after her training session. It was one of the requirements of her part-time job to attend a mandatory training session at corporate headquarters. After the all-day meeting at the downtown building, Orihime was exhausted, cold, and hungry. She turned down a smaller street to take the quickest route to the bus stop, hunched over against the cold wind that whistled fiercely through the narrow tunnels between skyscrapers. Her shoes crunched over broken glass on the sidewalk. The session had run late, and rush hour was long past; the streets were dark and deserted now. She scanned the area nervously and sped up her pace. She only hoped that there would not be too long a wait for her bus. She was really eager to get home. She shivered.

As she passed by the mouth of a dark alley, two men suddenly loomed up out of it and blocked her path. They were unshaven, pale, and thin, wearing torn, dirty jeans with stained denim jackets. One had greasy blond hair tied back in a tangled ponytail, and the other had thin brown hair and protruding eyes. The wind blew a strong reek of alcohol, stale sweat and urine toward her.

"Excuse me," she said in a determined voice, and tried to move around them.

The blond laughed. "Where are you going in such a hurry, pretty little thing? Why don't you hang out with us for a while?" He grinned, exposing a mouthful of stained, crooked teeth with several gaps. His pupils were dilated and there was a wild look in his eyes. Orihime shrank away from him, and backed up a step or two.

The other man spoke in a high-pitched whine. "I'm sure a nicely-dressed young lady such as yourself would have some cash to spare for a couple of poor hungry guys, right?"

Orihime shook her head. "All I have is bus fare, and I need that to get home." Her eyes scanned the street around them, looking for an escape route, or a passerby to ask for help. The street was still deserted. Her only hope was to break free and run. She was a fast runner. She'd just have to make sure she got a good head start.

"Welll," drawled the first one, "we'll take that bus fare, and then we'll take something else in payment." He grinned lasciviously at his companion. The other man moved quickly to stand behind Orihime and grabbed her arm before she could get away, twisting it viciously behind her back.

"Ow!" screamed Orihime. "Let go of me! Help!" she cried. Her cry echoed in the empty street. She kicked out at the man holding her, scraping his shins and stomping on his instep.

He yelped and let her go for a second. She took advantage of the release to feint to one side, avoiding a grab from the blond, and then quickly sidestepped to the other side and began running flat-out. Her feet pounding the pavement sounded loud in the empty street, and she didn't dare look behind her. Her breath scratched in her throat and her lungs burned with exertion as she ran.

Then she trod heavily on some piece of garbage left on the sidewalk and felt her ankle twist under her. She was running so fast she couldn't regain her balance, and she fell, hard, on the concrete, scraping her palms and elbows as she crashed to the ground.

In an instant, the two men were on her. One sat on her and caught up both wrists with one hand. She saw his dark eyes gleaming, the pupils so large she couldn't see what color the irises were, and smelled his foul breath as he leaned closer over her face.

"Now, that was a really silly thing to do." His voice was menacing. "You're making us have to work, and we just wanted to have a nice relaxing evening." He narrowed his eyes and his dirty hand stroked down her cheek to her neck and began playing with the collar of her blouse. "Well, maybe it's not too late for some relaxation."

Orihime shrank away from him, her skin crawling at his touch. She tried to wriggle free, but his grip was too strong. The other man stood over her, grinning viciously as well. How was she going to get out of this?

A cold voice spoke. "Only two men against one small girl? How disappointing."

The expressions on the men's faces turned to fear as they spun to see who had spoken. Orihime could feel the blond's hands tremble on hers. In the light of a streetlamp she could see the speaker clearly: a slender, pale man with shaggy black hair and unusually vivid green eyes. He was wearing a white tunic and pants; his face was expressionless and his left hand was in his pocket, but in his right hand he held a gun pointing directly at them.

Orihime could see her captor's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "Hey—" he said, his tone of voice suddenly ingratiating.

The black-haired man ignored him. "You're disappointingly disorganized in this part of the city. However, that makes it more convenient for me. It's too bad— I'd really love to stay and chat, but I think I'll just have to kill you." He raised the gun and aimed straight at the head of the blond.

The other man had already turned tail and was running down the street. The blond, terrified now, jumped up from where he was sitting on Orihime and started backing away. "No… I didn't mean nothin'," he muttered as he backed up, his eyes on the stranger.

The black-haired man curled his finger on the trigger, and the blond choked out a whimpering cry. Then he suddenly whipped around and followed his companion down the street, disappearing around a corner.

The man watched them go dispassionately, waiting until they were no longer in sight. Then the gun disappeared under his jacket, and the brilliant green gaze was turned on Orihime. The cold voice said, "Are you able to walk to your bus stop?"

Orihime swallowed and stood up carefully. She was still bleeding from her palms and elbows, and her ribs hurt from where the blond man had sat on her, but as she checked herself all over, she was fine. "Yes," she said.

"Good," said the black-haired man. "I don't think you'll have any more problems with that trash, but I would suggest you walk quickly." He turned to leave.

That was unexpected. She had thought he would offer to walk her to the bus stop. Orihime cried out, "Wait!"

He stopped and shot her a glance over his shoulder. "What is it?" There was a hint of impatience in his voice. "I have an important task to perform, and would prefer no further delays."

"Uh," said Orihime. "I just wanted to say thank you for helping me." She smiled at him.

"There is no need to thank me for dealing with trash," he said, walking away. She stared after him, then shook her head, dusted off her clothes, and began running to the bus stop.

XxXxXxX

Aizen was relaxing in his study in the clubhouse, an older building he had bought and renovated with profits from Hueco Mundo's activities. Title was held under one of the many shell companies he had created for the purpose of holding his acquisitions. The study was a large, windowless room lined with bookshelves, securely located in the center of the building, easily defended in the event of attack, and comfortably furnished.

It was late at night, but he typically needed little sleep. He was reclining with a book in an overstuffed armchair in front of a crackling fire, his feet up on an ottoman. A glass of wine rested on a teak end table beside his chair. He spent most of his time away from school here rather than in his aunt's cramped and dingy apartment under her disapproving glower. He could tell that she was relieved that he was gone much of the time as well. She had never seen him as other than an inconvenience; another mouth to feed; another drag on her time. The few times he did show up, she never even bothered to ask where he had been.

It was better here. He sipped his wine and sighed with contentment. It was an excellent vintage; and it was so pleasant to be relaxing here with the dancing warmth of an open fire on the skin of his face and arms, so pleasant to watch the flames lick at the fresh, dry wood and slowly consume it, leaving behind nothing but char and ash. There were few experiences, he mused, more purely delightful than that of gazing into open flames.

There was the sound of a key in the lock at the door. Aizen swung around to face it, eyes going to the display on the small hand unit on the end table. He relaxed at the information on the screen.

The door opened and a slight young woman with cropped blonde hair entered the room. Clinging to her leg was a small blonde girl of about four or five years of age. The woman stopped abruptly when she spotted Aizen.

"Oh, Captain— I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you were still here." She gestured apologetically toward the dining table at the other end of the study. "I was just going to clear the dinner dishes."

Aizen inclined his head. "By all means, Menoly. Please go ahead."

The child had let go of Menoly's leg and was staring at Aizen, her thumb in her mouth, her eyes wide. A huge dark bruise discolored one puffy eye and half her face.

The brown-haired teen frowned. "What happened to her face?"

Menoly looked up from where she was stacking the plates and glasses on a tray. She shot a glance at the little girl and her face darkened. "It was— my mom's new boyfriend. She was passed out again when he came home drunk." She lowered her eyes.

"What happened?" Aizen inquired further.

The blonde's face reddened and her hands clenched at her side. "I guess— he wanted my mom, but when she didn't wake up, he went into my sister's room, and, um…" She trailed off. "I heard her scream once, but it was cut off, and I ran into the room. He was, um, on top of her, and he'd already taken off her clothes, but I grabbed the desk lamp and hit him on the head. It knocked him out, and I took Lilynette and came here." She looked up at Aizen, eyes suddenly pleading. "I talked to Kaname, and he said she could stay here tonight, and ask you in the morning for permission for her to stay longer."

Aizen looked at her, brown eyes impassive. Then he glanced down at the child, now clinging to her older sister's leg again. "This isn't an orphanage, Menoly."

"Please, sir," Menoly's voice wavered. She wrung her hands together. "She can stay with me; she won't be any trouble. I can do extra work, both night and day shifts, to pay for her being here."

"This isn't necessarily a safe place for a child," Aizen cautioned.

"It's safer than my mom's." Menoly drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I'd make it up to you. I swear it."

The brown-haired teen looked at the little girl again, considering. "You'd have to keep her locked in your room or with you the entire time she's here. This isn't a place for children to be wandering around."

It might serve his purposes to grant her request, he mused. Menoly had demonstrated her loyalty to him when she came forward to inform on Loly after the incident with Orihime in the bathroom. A favor such as this could bind her more securely to him at relatively little cost. On the other hand, it wouldn't do for him to get a reputation for being charitable. He'd have to make sure he extracted payment from her in a very visible way. A thought struck him with a flash of amusement. He was still mulling over his revenge on Loly for her actions that day; perhaps he could involve Menoly in her punishment.

"Of course, sir." Menoly nodded eagerly. "I promise she won't be any trouble to you. You won't even know she's here."

Aizen gave her a long, level stare. Finally, he leaned back in the chair, picking up his book. "Very well; I'll allow it on a trial basis, Menoly."

The blonde bowed her head gratefully, hugging her sister with one arm. "Oh, thank you, sir! I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

"I'll expect to be repaid, completely, no matter what the cost," Aizen said softly. He allowed a hint of menace to creep into his tone of voice. His dark eyes met hers and she nodded fiercely in understanding.

Then he lowered his eyes to his book, and the girls scurried out without further comment.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door in a coded pattern. "Enter," Aizen called out, turning to face the door as he unlocked it with the remote. A slight, black-haired man with brilliant green eyes slipped into the room.

"Greetings, Ulquiorra," Aizen said.

"I have a report for you, sir," answered the other in his uninflected voice, hands in his pockets. "I have been following the woman as you ordered." His voice turned faintly scornful. "Sir, this woman appears to be accident-prone and attracts trouble. If there is a pothole in the sidewalk, she will trip over it. If predators frequent an area, she will stumble across them."

Aizen raised a slender eyebrow. "Surely, you had no difficulty with your assignment, Ulquiorra." His voice was smooth as velvet as he picked up his glass of wine, leaned back in the chair, and sipped, his eyes on the other man.

Ulquiorra's voice remained detached and cool. "No. There was no difficulty. Two individuals confronted her on the street downtown this evening. They were trash and I put them easily to flight."

Aizen's eyes narrowed. "Who were they?"

"No one of importance, sir. I doubt they even knew of her connection to us. They were not known members of the organization that controls that area, nor did they appear to be guided by any sort of intelligence. I suspect they were addicts looking for money for their next fix. Trash."

"Hmm." Aizen rested his chin in his hand and lidded his eyes, pondering this information.

"I have a video record of the incident, sir, should you wish further details on their identities."

"Good." Aizen shifted in his chair. "Send one copy to me, and another to Kaname with a note that he is to identify the attackers and produce a report on their connections and potential motivations."

"Yes, sir." Ulquiorra inclined his head.

"Very well." Aizen turned away, settling back into his armchair and picking up his glass. "Thank you, Ulquiorra. That is all."

Ulquiorra took a few steps toward the door, then stopped. He hesitated for a moment, but his voice was composed as always when he spoke. "Sir, if you intend to keep this woman safe, may I suggest that it would be easier if you brought her into our organization?"

"No." The brown-haired teen set his glass down on the table and met the emerald-green gaze of the other. "She is to stay unaware of us and our purpose." His voice dropped nearly to a whisper. "That is an order, Ulquiorra."

The other man bowed his head. "Of course, sir."

After Ulquiorra had left, Aizen stared into the dancing flames for a long time, considering. He agreed with the man's assessment that it was likely the attack on Orihime had not been a deliberate strike by one of his enemies. However, Ulquiorra's recommendation was logical. Bring Orihime fully into the gang, place her directly under their protection, and drill her in the security techniques all the other members had to comply with — that would make it much easier to protect her.

He knew that these early incidents were still random, not directed against him— yet. However, as soon as their connection became more broadly known, it was inevitable that further attacks on her would follow, as his enemies sought to gain leverage against him. Her accident-prone nature would only accelerate the problem.

As he deliberated, there was a tapping on the door in the pattern Gin used. Aizen sighed. "Enter," he called as he unlocked the door.

The door opened and a tall, rail-thin teen with fine silver hair sauntered into the room. The second-in-command of Hueco Mundo was wearing a white dashiki with bell sleeves over faded denims. He moved gracefully into the room and hitched his hip up onto the armrest of a chair, regarding his long-time friend and ally with eyes nearly closed and the ever-present grin on his face.

"Sooo," he drawled, "I hear ya have a new interest."

Aizen regarded him. "Have you been spying, Gin, as usual?"

"Isn't it a bad time ta get distracted, Aizen-taichou, what with the start of our big operation goin' on right now?" he asked, tilting his head.

Aizen gazed into the fire. "I am not distracted," he said.

"Psh. Ya see somethin' ya want and ya reach out fer it, same as always. Don'cha think it might be a risk, specially now?"

"She serves a purpose in my plans. That is all you need to know."

"I know yer usin' her… facilities, but… why put her officially under yer protection? Why spare so much manpower to guard her?" Gin's smile was wider than usual. "Sounds like there's somethin' more goin' on rather than her jus' bein' another one of yer tools. Why should it matter whether she lives or dies?"

"That's enough, Gin." Aizen's voice was quiet but held a deadly edge. "It's my decision where to seek entertainment."

"Entertainment? Is that all it is?" Gin's voice was skeptical.

Aizen picked up his glass and sipped thoughtfully, still gazing into the fire. "Why would it be anything else? Has it ever been in the past?"

"Nooo," Gin said, "but this one is different. She's not in the gang; yer hidin' yer true identity from her. You've never done that before."

Aizen shrugged. "She caught my fancy; that's all. Why should I limit myself? In any event," he turned and faced Gin directly, brown eyes narrowed. "I will not have my decisions questioned or gossiped over. I want you to make it clear to the others that I will not tolerate any discussion of this matter." He leaned back in the chair and sipped from his glass. "The usual punishments will apply. Do I make myself clear?" His voice was soft but Gin heard the steel undertone.

Gin slid off the armrest and bowed his head. "O' course, Aizen-taichou."

XxXxXxX

Leaves were swirling around the streets around Karakura High as a blustery late fall wind captured them and spun them into the air, then suddenly died down. Three seniors, close friends, were walking home from school, backpacks slung over their shoulders, heads bent in intense conversation. One was tall and heavily muscled with thick brown hair and a quiet air about him; the second was slender and black-haired with glasses and a sardonic expression on his face. But it was the third who radiated furious energy as he addressed his friends. He had a bright shock of orange hair, and was clenching his fists as he spoke in a low, angry voice. "I think Grimmjow's trying to expand Hueco Mundo's territory into this neighborhood. I'm planning on stopping him."

"Single-handedly, Ichigo?" The black-haired teen's voice was cool and ironic as he pushed his glasses up his nose. "Isn't it better to examine his techniques and think about how to counter them? He must be trying to establish control over the local small-time criminals here, but you can't be sure how much he's controlling them yet. Still, he probably thinks of us as easy prey. We must not be unprepared in any regard—"

"You talk too much, Uryuu!" growled Ichigo. "I'm just going to take him out!"

There was a shriek from an alley up ahead, interrupting their conversation, and the boys stopped. It was repeated and Ichigo ran forward, closely followed by Chad and Uryuu. Two big men were chasing a young girl down the alley. She shrieked again, tossing her blue-green hair back from her face, sprinting on long legs toward the fence at the end of the passageway.

"Wha—" asked Uryuu in shock. "What's going on?"

Ichigo began running after them. "Let's save her! We'll think about it later!" On his face was a ferocious scowl. In moments, he had overtaken the two men and was laying about him with his fists. They grunted and attempted to fight back, but it did not take long before they were lying on the ground, groaning.

Ichigo turned to the girl. She had sat down on the pavement and was twitching her head back and forth randomly. He thought he recognized her from school, but it was hard to tell, since there were over five thousand students at Karakura High, crowded into a building meant for two thousand. "Are you okay?" he asked.

The expression on her face was shocked and childish. "Quit being mean!" she whined. "What did we ever do to you?" She stuck a thumb in her mouth, an odd and jarring gesture for a tall and slender teen. "Nel is sad to see her friends hit." She gestured to the two men on the ground.

"Those guys— were your friends?" Ichigo asked in disbelief.

"Yesh," the girl lisped. "They was playing with Nel."

"Your name is Nel?" asked Uryuu.

"Yes sir!" Nel said, baring all her teeth in a childish grin. Then she tried to stand up and fell over, giggling.

"She's high on something," said Uryuu, his lips twisting in disgust.

"Are you okay, Nel?" Ichigo asked her. The only response was more giggles as she rolled around on the ground.

The three boys looked at each other. "I better take her to my dad's clinic," said Ichigo finally. "I can't leave her like this. I don't think those guys are really her friends."

Chad nodded. "I'll help you, Ichigo. I don't think she can walk." He picked up the giggling girl and slung her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. She did not resist, but lay there limply, occasionally giggling or making sounds a baby would make.

At the clinic, Isshin sighed as he examined the girl, who had lost consciousness. "I need to take a blood sample and analyze it, but I'm pretty sure I know what she's on," he said. He frowned at Ichigo. "There's a new drug out on the streets. I've been seeing more cases of it. I don't know details of its chemical composition, but they call it 'Breakdown.' It appears to produce a very euphoric high, more powerful even than narcotics. One kid told me, 'the most incredible pleasure you can imagine, and when you're on it you feel like whatever you wish for will come true.'" He looked at the tall green-haired girl in the hospital bed. "But an overdose can cause mental regression and brain damage. Childish behavior."

"Is she going to get better?" asked Ichigo with a scowl.

"I don't know," replied Isshin. "In some cases, they do; in others, no. Sometimes they behave normally for a while, and then have flashbacks where they think they're children again." He grimaced. "The other thing we know about this drug is that it's more addictive than heroin. Apparently it only takes maybe two, three doses before you're hooked."

"That's terrible!" burst out Ichigo. "Aren't the police trying to stop it?"

Isshin snorted. "Of course they are, but you know how hard it is to stop drug traffic. Especially one that is as pleasurable as this 'Breakdown.' It's become very popular. But no one even knows where it's manufactured, and if it's coming from abroad, how it's being smuggled into the country."

Ichigo clenched his fists. "Grimmjow. I bet he's mixed up in it."

Isshin raised his eyebrows. "Son, you shouldn't get involved with this. Leave it to the police."

"Right, Dad. While more cases like this happen." He gestured to Nel lying unconscious on the bed. "You know Hueco Mundo must be mixed up in this, and if they are, then Grimmjow must be." He clenched his fists again. "I'm going to find the bastard and deal with him once and for all."

XxXxXxX

The old man walked slowly up the main flight of stairs at the front of the school. Burly and still muscular despite his age, his thick white hair crowning his head, his knees protested as he climbed the stairs. It stuck in his craw every time he had to do something like this, groveling to a person— a student! – who should have no authority over him whatsoever. In the twenty-five years he had been principal of this school, Barragan had never before encountered anyone brazen enough to challenge him. Yet somehow, this student was powerful enough to make him obey.

He growled to himself. At least it would be coming to an end soon, when Aizen left high school at the end of the year. Aizen had promised it would be over then. After nearly four years… Barragan remembered all too well how it had begun.

_He had arrived in his office at eight in the morning as he always did, on the first day of the new school year over three years ago. He inserted the key in the door of his office as he had done each day for over twenty years, and swung the door open, moving inside ponderously._

_As he turned, he was shocked and outraged to see a student he did not recognize daring to sit in his own desk chair. The youth was slender, dressed in black, with elegant features, deep brown eyes, and thick brown hair swept back from his face. Rage flared in Barragan's gut._

"_Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my office?" he growled, advancing on the youth with menace in his eyes. His fists were clenched. It would not be the first time he had had to brawl in this rough school, subdue an unruly student with the force of his punches rather than words, although it would be the first time it had happened in his office._

_But the young man lounging in his chair did not move. He remained completely relaxed and his lips curled slightly as Barragan heard two clicks from either side of the room. He froze. Two other students were standing on opposite sides of him, each holding a gun pointed at his head._

_Nervously shifting his eyes under their thick white eyebrows back and forth, he slowly raised his hands. His eyes flashed to the button under his desk that connected directly to the police department. But it was too far to reach from here, so all he said was, "Who are you and what do you want?"_

_The youth, surprisingly, spoke politely. "I'm sorry to intrude upon you in this fashion. But have you ever heard of Hueco Mundo?" he asked._

_Of course Barragan had heard of the relatively new but ruthlessly vicious gang that had recently taken over the neighborhood and was terrorizing the locals. The rumors spoke of the gang's mysterious leader, known as the "Captain," and how easily he ordered violence, torture, and death._

_He nodded slowly, eying the slight young teen in his chair. Was this child an agent for Hueco Mundo? If so, that would explain his arrogance._

"_Very well." The teen spoke in a quiet, calm voice. "Tell me, Barragan, have you ever wished for something more out of life, for a better job than principal of Karakura High?" He waved his hand dismissively toward the front of the decrepit school building._

_Barragan snorted. "A better job than this? No one leaves this miserable job. I'll be stuck here till I retire."_

"_Still, haven't you thought that with more income, a better staff perhaps, more connections with the school board… that your life could be more rewarding? I could offer you this… and so much more…" The youth trailed off delicately. Was he offering him a bribe?_

_The older man grunted. "There's nothing you have to offer me that could interest me."_

"_Nothing at all?" The youth cocked his head to one side. "Are you certain of that?"_

"_Absolutely," growled Barragan, a vein pulsing in his neck. "I don't take bribes, and I don't believe you'll have your goons shoot me here in my own office." He glared at the young teen and folded his arms over his chest._

_The youth sighed with faint regret. "I'm truly sorry that you don't want to deal with me peacefully. In that case, then… please listen to this." He activated the speakerphone on Barragan's desk. "Go ahead," he said into the phone._

"_What's this?" said a muffled female voice from the speakerphone. There was some noise in the background. "Dad?" asked the voice._

_Barragan's heart seemed to stop. It was his daughter's voice, but she sounded very different than usual. Her voice was high-pitched with strain, filled with fear and exhaustion._

"_Dad? Is that you?" asked the voice again._

"_Yes… I'm here. Is that you, Charlotte…?" asked Barragan, his voice gruff._

"_Dad," said the voice, sounding as though it were about to break with terror. "Dad, there are three men here in my house. They broke in and tied me up… they say they'll kill me unless you do what they say. Dad—" The voice broke off and then spiraled upward. "Dad, could you please tell me what's going on?"_

_In fury, Barragan glared at the youth behind the desk, who returned his gaze calmly. He cut off the connection on the speakerphone and regarded Barragan. "Well? What is your answer?"_

_The old man's shoulders sagged. He was all too aware of Hueco Mundo's methods and power. He knew the gang always made good on their threats. The police department was riddled with their informers. There was no protection against them. _

_He scowled and looked back at the brown-haired teen, his voice full of resignation. "What is it you want?"_

Since then, he had been one of the gang's agents, carrying out all their orders and serving as their local coordinator, as Hueco Mundo moved their primary base and main headquarters to the buildings of Karakura High. Payments had appeared in his bank account, and everything had been carefully documented, with the usual attention to detail the rumors said you could expect from Hueco Mundo.

So now they owned him, holding not just the life of his daughter in their hands, but also plenty of fodder for blackmail should he ever step out of line.

The one promise the youth had made… the teen he had learned to call "Captain," and to bow the head to his every whim… was that at the end of his senior year, the gang would move its headquarters elsewhere and Barragan would be allowed to retire, the only further price his silence. Four years of hell, of being an accessory to crimes he didn't even want to think about, and finally the end was in sight.

He nodded to the student on guard outside the door to the room marked 'Teachers' Lounge.' "I have important information for the Captain. He'll want to see me immediately."

The student sniffed, full of his privilege as a gang member, but entered the room immediately to relay his words. Shortly thereafter, he returned and swung the door open to Barragan. "He'll see you now."

The old man entered the large room. The former teachers' lounge was spacious and comfortable. It was located in one of the older parts of the building, but had been maintained reasonably well over the years. The wainscoting and crown molding gracing the once-elegant room echoed bygone days of larger school district budgets, when education was believed to be a priority by state government and teaching was a respected profession. The tall floor-to-ceiling wood-mullioned windows offered the best view from the school, the second-story windows overlooking the neighborhood park.

At one end of the room, sitting at his ease on an antique high wing back armchair upholstered in white satin jacquard, sat Sousuke Aizen. About two dozen members of his gang were sitting or standing around his chair; they had all turned to watch Barragan enter the room. On his knees in the center of the room, facing Aizen, was a younger, blond teen, wrists bound behind his back, his face pale and terrified, a bright red welt rising on one cheek. Barragan grimaced. Although he had made his peace, mostly, with his own complicity in Aizen's crimes, the youth seemed to enjoy rubbing his servitude in his face, deliberately allowing him to witness scenes of intimidation, torture, and even murder. The scowl on his face deepened.

He ignored all the others, walked straight up to the brown-haired youth and said, "I have important information for your ears alone, Captain."

Aizen raised his brows slightly, but then gestured peremptorily with his head. At once the gang members began filtering out of the room. One jerked the bound teen to his feet and made him follow.

When the door closed behind them and the two of them were alone in the room, Barragan turned back to Aizen. "Police Chief Yamamoto called me this morning."

Aizen said nothing, only raised a brow in inquiry.

"He said that the drug trafficking and gang activity in this area is getting out of hand, and he's had orders direct from the mayor to do something about it. They're especially concerned about this new drug that's recently been appearing on the streets." He beetled his thick white brows at Aizen. "So he's sending a team of undercover agents to the school on an infiltration mission. He informed me that I was to be the sole contact to minimize the possibility of leaks."

A faint smile appeared on Aizen's face. "Is that so." He rested his chin in his hand. "And have you received any information on these undercover agents?"

"Yes. I have their names and descriptions here, as well as the schedule of their arrival. They're all adults who can pass for teenagers, experienced undercover cops from other jurisdictions."

Aizen held out his hand for the information. He unfolded the piece of paper. "Rukia Kuchiki, Renji Abarai, Toshiro Hitsugaya…" He ran his eye down the list of names. "Very interesting, Barragan. Have they informed you when they'll send more information?"

"No. This was the final exchange. They're just going to drop these agents off here, where they'll pretend to be students for the next few months, gathering intelligence."

Aizen crossed his legs gracefully. "And undoubtedly attempting to infiltrate that notorious gang that's rumored to have operations at Karakura High." His eyes glittered with amusement. "Well, we'll just have to make sure we… facilitate… their work," he said softly. He looked back at the old man and his voice was languid but held a deep note of satisfaction. "Thank you, Barragan, for your help placing the lives of these individuals in my hands. I'll make sure to take the greatest of care with them." He smiled, and Barragan saw the dark pleasure in his eyes. "As always, your cooperation makes my work so much easier." The old man scowled.

_Accessory to murder,_ Barragan thought to himself, _yet again_. The part that bothered him the most was not just the crimes. What principal didn't secretly wish he could off a few of his students? It was the loss of control over his own school, the way he had to bow to Aizen, the fact that if the crimes came to light, it would be Barragan, not Aizen, who would go to jail. He gritted his teeth, aware that Aizen was amused by his reaction, as usual. _Unforgivable._

_Someday,_ he thought, _I'll kill you with my bare hands, Sousuke Aizen. You will regret ever dealing with me…_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**A/N:** The first scene of this chapter contains portions of scenes from manga chapter 425. They don't really contain any critical plot elements. However, if you're concerned about it, you can skip the first scene in this chapter and start reading at the scene break. The rest of the chapter contains echoes from a number of older manga chapters (371 and earlier).

(Originally posted 1/15/2011.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime marched down the school hallway humming and singing to herself. "If I laugh, then you laugh. If you laugh, then someone else will laugh too." She felt deliriously happy as she strode down the hall to the beat of the "Wahaha Song." She didn't notice the whispered comments from two boys standing at their lockers as she walked by.

Life was good, she thought to herself. If this was how being in love made you feel, she could understand why it came so highly recommended. She grinned to herself. She had another date with Sousuke tonight, and then they were going to the Halloween Dance at the end of the week. She felt like jumping up in the air and clicking her heels together, or doing something else crazy. Her body felt too small to carry all the joy she felt.

She passed by a window looking out over the courtyard, and her gaze was caught by Ichigo and Tatsuki arguing and gesticulating in the center of the yard. She stopped suddenly. Whatever could they be discussing to make them so grumpy? Time to make them laugh. She leaned far out the open window, waving vigorously.

"Kurosaki-kun! Tatsuki-chan!" she called.

Looking down at her friends on the ground, and calculating how long it would take to walk all the way down the hall to the stairwell and then all the way into the courtyard, she made a quick estimation of the time she would save by sliding down the drainpipe. It was no contest. She leaped out of the window and onto the drainpipe, grinning.

"Yo, Inoue," said Ichigo, looking up at her in concern as she began sliding down the pipe.

"Hey!" shouted Tatsuki angrily. "That's dangerous, stupid! You'll fall! I can see your panties!"

Orihime came running over to the two of them. Before she could say anything, Tatsuki gave her a good hard clout on top of her head. Ichigo started forward with a distressed look on his face at how rough Tatsuki was being on her.

"Stop it!" he shouted, at the same time as Orihime shouted in pain and drowned out his words.

"Ow!" cried Orihime, vainly trying to protect her head with her arms.

But Tatsuki was stronger than her and evaded her block. She glared ferociously at Orihime and shook her fist. "Well, that's what you get! Next time I'll hit you even harder!"

"Hey, knock it off," cried Ichigo. "She didn't get hurt, after all." He yanked Tatsuki's fist down and the girl turned her glare on him.

She hauled him up by his shirt front and menaced him with her fist. "Shut up! I have no reason to be lectured about Orihime's education from you!" It was the last straw. She narrowed her eyes at him, reminding him of the long months he had ignored his feelings for Orihime and kept on pretending they were just friends. They had just been having another argument about Orihime dating Aizen and she couldn't be more exasperated with Ichigo.

It was ironic, Tatsuki thought, that just as being in love with someone else had brought Orihime newfound confidence and led her to relax more around Ichigo, she had become so appealing to him that he now appeared to be in the throes of a raging crush on her. What a reversal.

Overnight, she seemed to have blossomed into a woman, rather than a schoolgirl. And the effect on Ichigo had been devastating. Orihime's new self-assurance had led to increased openness in her friendship with Ichigo. Now that she was no longer shy around him, her bubbly personality was shining forth like the light of the sun, and Tatsuki would have felt sorry for the orange-haired teen if he weren't sublimating his frustrated interest in Orihime into a grouchy petulance towards all his friends.

Tatsuki was particularly annoyed with Ichigo's irrational hostility towards Aizen and, it seemed, just about everyone Ichigo came into contact with. He claimed he was reacting in the only way he could: by deciding to protect Orihime. What really got Tatsuki steamed is that he was now even interfering with _her_ guidance of her sometimes clueless friend, when he never had cared before. But now if anything hurt Orihime, even a little bit, he flew off the handle.

"I'm not lecturing you! I'm just saying you're being too cruel!" he argued.

"That's lecturing!" cried Tatsuki in anger, drawing her fist back.

"Ummm!" said Orihime hurriedly, sounding like she was trying to distract Ichigo and Tatsuki from their fight. "I have something to discuss with you!"

"Discuss?" The two of them were caught off guard.

Orihime was babbling again. "Ummm, the truth is— ummm… There's this song that I've made the theme song of my life, and I was wondering what you thought of it?" she asked brightly, with a wide smile.

The other two looked completely confused.

After a pause, Tatsuki said, "Theme song?" Orihime had always had these bizarre moments of off-the-wall thoughts, but this one was even more bewildering than usual. She felt her expression becoming more and more confused as Orihime launched into a complicated explanation of her new song.

Tatsuki finally shook her head in exasperation, not understanding any of it. "I don't have time for this. I've got to go to work. Don't you have to, too, Orihime? I think we both better get to our jobs."

"Oh!" Orihime realized she was about to be late to her part-time job at the bakery. She had already been late to a couple of her shifts recently, leading to a tongue-lashing by her boss. She was so distracted lately. For some reason, she found it hard to be aware of her surroundings all the time… her mind seemed to be constantly torn away, replaying recent conversations with Aizen, examining every nuance of his words in her memory, seeing his beautiful face in her mind's eye, feeling those long-fingered hands on her skin.

"Bye!" she shouted to her friends as she ran off.

But even as she rushed off toward work, running so fast she was panting, she still felt buoyed, exuberant. Even the thought of being chewed out by her boss somehow didn't seem that important. What mattered was that she loved, and was loved in return.

XxXxXxX

Loly crouched on the floor of the dim basement furnace room beside the other members of Hueco Mundo, waiting for their leader, their taichou, to come down the stairs. She avoided looking at the thin young man tied to a chair in front of the furnace. This meeting had been called for the purpose of discipline, and the unlucky captive would soon be the recipient of whatever cruelties their leader chose to inflict upon him. She wanted to distance herself from him as much as possible.

The basement furnace room was dim and shadowy, surrounded by the hulking shapes of equipment of unknown vintage. The vast furnace itself glowed sullenly around the iron door in its squat belly; the room seemed to reek of old evil and despair. Two bare bulbs hung from twisted wires nailed to the rafters amongst a maze of pipes, drains, and loose clusters of wire, the largest of the pipes wrapped with insulating tape stained with decades of rust. Blood or other fluids washed off easily from the painted cement floor, and the recessed drain at the low end of the room disposed of all evidence.

In front of the furnace now was placed an ordinary wooden chair pilfered from a classroom above. The still figure of a youth was bound with ropes to the chair, arms bound to his sides by many coils of rope, and then the rope had been passed around each of his legs, strapping each one to a leg of the chair.

Around the walls of the room, facing towards the center where the student was bound, stood about twenty of the gang members, mostly male except for three or four females. The others faced the boy on the chair, and a couple were jeering and taunting him. But they all fell silent as a slender, brown-haired teen appeared on the landing and began walking down the final stairs slowly and deliberately. His hair was slicked back from his face, except for a single curl hanging in between his brows, framing large, intense brown eyes. He was not wearing his glasses, and a small smile played about his lips.

A shiver went through Loly. Watching Aizen walk down the stairs like the wrath of God almost undid her, as it did every time she saw him. She knew that her pupils had dilated and her lips had parted, as a ferocious wave of adoration washed through her.

It had been this way ever since she had first laid eyes on him, when she was finally dating one of the Espada of Hueco Mundo and through his connections had been at last allowed to join the gang and attend their meetings. Aizen had walked in to take command of the meeting, and, awestruck, knowing that she was finally seeing the dreaded taichou of Hueco Mundo, his physical beauty had struck her like a knife in her heart. His huge, beautiful eyes surrounded by impossibly thick, long lashes; eyes of a brown so deep you could hardly see the boundary between the irises and the large pupils as black as his heart; that deep, resonant voice that spoke so politely of torture and death; his sculpted, perfect body and utterly graceful movements – between one breath and the next she had known what she wanted, wanted with a passion so deep it shook her small body to its core.

From that moment on, she had set herself to catch his attention in the most brazen way possible. She knew she had an attractive body, lithe and well endowed. It was her only asset, she believed, but she was well versed in how to use it. She had already lured many males, from teens to older men, mostly using them to get money, gifts, or status. Sex meant little to her and the word love was, in her opinion, just a silly euphemism for sex. There had been nothing in her life before; her mother was a drunk and her father long gone; as far back as she could remember, a succession of boyfriends had passed through their shabby apartment, a few taking their enjoyment of the young girl as well while the mother lay passed out in a drunken stupor on the couch.

Like many of the kids in their neighborhood, she had looked up to the members of the Hueco Mundo gang. They had the power and the money; they were the ones who walked brazenly through the streets while others trembled in fear before them. She had set her sights on becoming the girlfriend of one of these powerful, admired creatures; her life's highest ambition had been to date an Espada and eventually, become herself a member of the gang. It had never entered her dreams that the great and feared taichou of Hueco Mundo would even deign to look at one such as her.

But to her delight she had caught his eye. He was a man, after all, and all men were vulnerable to certain charms. She shivered in memory. How well she remembered that night, the night he had brought her, quivering with excitement, to his room in the gang clubhouse. She had expected him to be like all the others, the men who tore her clothes, grabbed her breasts, pressed sloppy mouths reeking of whisky or smoke to her lips, and then took her roughly, taking their pleasure eagerly and tossing her aside until the next time.

But instead he had been a gentleman. A gentleman, even to one such as her. He had spoken to her politely. He had asked her permission, had unbuttoned her shirt slowly, his eyes smoldering, a dark smile on his expressive mouth. He had touched his lips sweeter than honey to hers, had entered her mouth tenderly with his warm tongue. He had touched her gently, teasingly, stroked her with his long fingers until she thought she would die from the torment and wonder of it.

Sex had always been a tedious task for her, something she did to get other things she wanted, pleasurable mostly in that it finally gave her a small power over others. But that night with Aizen had been a revelation of what heaven could be like.

She had been so desperate for him that she had trembled, for once in her life unable to speak, as he leaned over her, finally naked, one curl of hair hanging in his face to brush hers when he lowered his mouth to hers. His body was even more impossibly gorgeous than she had imagined, his well-muscled, tanned chest like that of a god, his beautiful eyes alight with lust.

At last he had taken her, and in that moment she had felt herself lost, her body clenching in waves of agonized passion. She had felt a pleasure more intense than she had ever dreamed possible, until at last he collapsed on her, gently seeking out her mouth again with his and kissing her again.

He had even allowed her to sleep there that night, in his bed beside him, until the morning.

From then on it was all over for her. She had lost her heart to the last man she would have wanted to. She had heard, of course, all the stories whispered about the leader of Hueco Mundo; she knew he was an evil bastard utterly without principles; she knew he cared for nothing and no one besides himself; at the very most he might allow himself to toy with her, to use her for his pleasure… and to her horror, she realized that that had, in one deadly instant, become her only goal: to be his toy, his slave, to allow herself to be used by him in any way he found amusing.

She had bowed her head, ferocious emotions churning within her. She knew all too well how her infatuation with a man like this would end. But, helpless, she could do nothing to stop herself. She knew she would do anything for him. She would kill for him. She would die for him.

The sight of him, a glimpse of the curve of his throat, a single gesture with a graceful hand – any of these made her feel violently fascinated, weak and trembling at her core, all her resolve washed away in a single instant. She was helplessly, hopelessly attracted to him; like a moth to a flame, she knew she would forever be drawn to his deadly beauty, that she would go to him knowing full well that it would bring her only pain and death.

She still held that one golden night in her memory, precious and unrecoverable, as the one crowning moment of her life when everything had been worthwhile, when she was not Loly Avirrne, the trashy, worthless slut of Karakura High, but a princess, a treasure, beloved by a king, a god… her lover.

They had had sex again since that night, but it had never been the same as that first time. He had never shown that gentle, caring side to her again. Instead, he had been indifferent, or even worse, in a playful mood, a devilish smile dancing on his lips, as he whispered commands in her ear that she must follow regardless of the pain or personal cost to her.

That was the way it always was in Hueco Mundo. Nothing ever mattered except Aizen's wishes, Aizen's pleasure.

And all the while, she had to prove her usefulness to him, commit whatever crimes he directed, and bring in income to the gang. She did everything he asked of her, obeying the least of his whims to the letter, never voicing the despair that filled her heart and mind. She knew that eventually she would be caught, and he would not care in the slightest as they took her to jail. And she knew, she thought in hopeless anguish, that she would be loyal to him even there, and would not let his name pass her lips as they sentenced her. She was his, heart, body, and soul, utterly and forever, until the moment of her death.

XxXxXxX

Grimmjow looked at the small slip of paper with the coded message and painfully decoded it with his little codebook. This was the part of the job he hated. So easy to get one letter wrong and mess up the whole deal. Tongue between his teeth, a stub of a pencil in his hand, he peered at the codebook and back at the message several times.

It seemed like a waste of time to Grimmjow. Who the hell was going to find that piece of paper anyway? Why did it need to be in code? But it was the Captain's orders that it be done this way, so that was the way it was done. Grimmjow didn't really understand why. But it didn't matter.

You did it the way the Captain wanted or you didn't survive long.

Finally he was finished. "Shit," he said. "It's tonight."

It was several hours since school dismissal and it would soon be dark. The sky was overcast and it was cold enough that Grimmjow's fingers were clumsy as he manipulated the stubby pencil. He and Nnoitra had been hanging out behind the school, smoking. Nobody ever came to the back lot; it was known Hueco Mundo territory. Although, the Captain had cautioned them that soon those undercover cops would arrive and they would have to be more cautious about conducting business around the school. Damn cops. Poking their noses where they weren't wanted. The school was supposed to be Hueco Mundo's base. But at least the Captain had a plan for dealing with the cops. He always had a plan.

Nnoitra grimaced. "It's Wednesday. We never have to go on Wednesday. It's always Friday or the weekend." His voice sounded whiny and Grimmjow glared at him.

He jerked his head at Nnoitra. "Get your butt in gear, Jiruga. It's time for our delivery."

The tall, skinny teen with greasy black hair adjusted his eyepatch and sneered at Grimmjow. "Shut the fuck up. I'm coming."

The two teens got to their feet and walked to the school parking lot, where Nnoitra's battered old Chevy perched in faded glory at the far end of the lot. Grimmjow sneered. He'd prefer to take his Harley, but they had to take the shipment in the trunk, so they needed a car. Grimmjow hated being cooped up inside a metal box. Especially Nnoitra's smelly old piece of shit. It stank of stale tobacco smoke and rancid burgers from whatever lousy fast-food joint Nnoitra got them from. Sitting inside, even for a few minutes, made him want to claw his way out.

He sat in the passenger seat, the window rolled all the way down, drumming his fingers impatiently on the door handle as Nnoitra coaxed the old claptrap into life. The black-haired teen grinned evilly at him as he pulled out of the lot.

"What's the problem, Grimmy? You look like you're in heat or something."

Grimmjow growled at him but said nothing. Nnoitra wasn't worth the time of day even though he was ranked ahead of him— for now. They drove along in silence through the city streets and then on the frontage road in the industrial section until they got to their turnoff. Nnoitra turned into the parking lot of a nondescript, windowless, white building with a faded sign. It looked like any other marginally successful manufacturing business in the area. He pulled around to the back, past an overflowing dumpster and into a garbage-strewn lot.

Grimmjow got out while Nnoitra left the car idling. It was a routine job, but Grimmjow kept a sharp eye out for anyone who might be following them or loitering around. The back lot was deserted. He walked up to the back door, pressed the button above the keypad, and waited, making sure his face was visible to the peephole in the center of the scuffed door with peeling paint.

It only took a few minutes before the door opened and a thin, pasty-faced youth was standing there with what looked like a laundry bag. Grimmjow didn't bother with greetings. He nodded to the youth and hoisted the bag onto his shoulders. The door closed behind him with a slam.

Nnoitra already had the trunk open and waiting. Grimmjow tossed the heavy bag into the trunk and Nnoitra slammed it.

Then they were back on the road heading to their next stop. Grimmjow leaned out the open window again and considered their destination. It hadn't taken him long to figure out who lived in the apartment they'd been using. But what was confusing was why. What kind of game was Aizen playing?

Grimmjow knew Aizen thought of people only as tools to be used for his own purposes. Hell, the only reason Hueco Mundo existed was to serve Aizen's ambitions, and one thing that was very clear was that Aizen always had the best interests of only one person in mind. Sometimes it bothered him to be serving under someone who had repeatedly demonstrated his utter lack of concern for the lives of either his enemies or his allies. But he always shrugged it off. What else could someone like him do? Besides, it was too late. He had thrown in his lot with Aizen, and no one left Hueco Mundo alive.

And he had to admit he had done well for himself since he joined the gang. It offered protection for him, had enabled him to get out of a number of scrapes he had gotten himself into. Aizen made sure the gang members took care of one another, and Aizen's connections with the cops and school administration made sure that, if caught, Grimmjow always got away with a slap on the wrist at worst. And the financial rewards were far better than he could get with a regular job.

He sighed. All he had to do was obey Aizen's every whim, which could be… difficult sometimes.

Nnoitra turned onto the street a block away from their destination and parked. The two of them looked briefly up and down the street; there were no pedestrians visible. Quickly, they got out and Grimmjow hoisted the laundry bag across his shoulders. They walked across the parking lot and overgrown side yard of a beat-up old four-story apartment building. Their target was behind it on the other block.

Sidling into the back yard of the other apartment, they scanned once more for passersby. Then Grimmjow nodded and set the bag down. Nnoitra put his hand on it protectively and turned his back to Grimmjow, hiding what the other man was doing at the door while scanning for any witnesses. The blue-haired teen pulled out a key and slipped it into the lock of the back door of the apartment. Easing the door open, he checked the interior of the hallway. Finding the coast clear, he nodded to Nnoitra. The other man hoisted the white bag up on his shoulder and the two entered the building.

Once at the door of their target apartment, they repeated the process, Grimmjow using the key to gain access. The door once shut behind them, they relaxed a little. The apartment was unoccupied as it always was during the times listed on the coded messages.

Grimmjow looked around briefly. The apartment was shabby and dingy, not much better than Grimmjow's own home in terms of condition. But it was significantly cleaner than the dump where he, his three younger half-brothers and two half-sisters crashed with their mom. She never bothered to clean up after her binges on drugs or liquor, so the place was a mess. But it had been the only roof over his head until he joined Hueco Mundo and had instantly taken a big step upwards in street cred, as well as gaining access to the gang clubhouse for nights when the screaming and stink became unbearable.

Nnoitra had already dumped the bag open in front of the oddly out of place huge stuffed blue dog in the corner of the living room. He turned the dog around and unzipped the back, then started rooting around in the stuffing. His hand emerged with a small packet. He showed it to Grimmjow, who nodded, and stuffed it in his jacket pocket.

The two of them began taking a number of small, soft-sided packages wrapped up in butcher paper and twine out of the bigger cloth bag and burying them deep within the stuffed dog. They worked quickly and silently. Finally the bag was empty, and Grimmjow rolled it up and shoved it into the dog as well. Then Nnoitra adjusted the stuffing to cover the new objects within the dog, and zipped up the back. The two of them replaced the animal in its corner. Grimmjow gave the apartment a once-over to make sure they were leaving it as they had found it. Then they silently slipped out the door and down the hall to the back.

As they stepped out of the back door to the outside, a shadow emerged from the bushes and confronted them.

"Jaggerjaques and Jiruga," said a voice. "What are you two bastards doing hanging around Inoue's apartment?" The youth came forward into the light cast by the fixture by the door and his orange hair gleamed. There was a ferocious scowl on his face and his fists were ready.

Nnoitra and Grimmjow exchanged a quick glance. "Go," said Grimmjow, aware of what Nnoitra was holding underneath his jacket. "I'll take care of this scumwad and join you later." At the clubhouse, Nnoitra knew he meant, where they were supposed to take the small package. He gave a brief nod and took off running.

Ichigo ignored him, focusing on Grimmjow. "I said, what are you doing in Inoue's building?"

"Who?" asked Grimmjow, grinning.

Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "Don't give me that crap, Jaggerjaques. I saw you hanging around her a couple of weeks ago. And I've seen you at this apartment before. Tell me what you're doing or I'll pound your face in."

"Ha!" said Grimmjow scornfully. "You and who else?" He looked around mockingly. "I think I'll wipe the ground with your ass."

"Tell me what you're trying to do to Inoue first," said Ichigo.

Grimmjow tried a blank look. "I don't know who you're talking about. Nnoitra has a friend in this building and we were visiting him, that's all."

Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "Right. What's the name of this 'friend'?"

"Uh… Joe," said Grimmjow with a grin. "But it doesn't matter, because I'm going to kill you right now."

Ichigo scowled ferociously and lifted his fists. "Good. I'd like to see you try. I'm not going to hold back this time, Jaggerjaques."

"If you don't wanna die, you better not!" Grimmjow grinned in insane joy and led off with a hard, fast uppercut.

Ichigo blocked and roundhouse punched at the blue-haired teen's jaw. Then they were fighting, fast and furious and hard, punching, feinting, blocking. Ichigo felt the rage inside him that had been building up ever since he heard about Inoue, since he had watched Nel slowly recover in his father's clinic, since he had heard about the new drug… that was the rage he funneled into his fists, attacking Jaggerjaques with everything he had. The fury was like an animal, like a creature deep within him that was fueled by berserker rage. He was pounding on Grimmjow, crushing him down to the ground with his fists moving faster and harder than he'd ever seen before. He might not be able to win back Inoue, but he could protect all the innocents on the street from Hueco Mundo and from Grimmjow here and now.

Grimmjow had fallen to the ground, half-conscious, and Ichigo continued beating him, raging in fury. He felt the man beneath him like a lifeless doll, but somehow he couldn't stop hitting him.

It was the man's head lolling at a crazy angle that suddenly shook some sense into Ichigo. Gasping and panting, he suddenly stopped. It was as though the rage had been turned off like a spigot. And he fell to the ground, wondering what he had become. He had been acting like a crazy monster, beating an unconscious man.

Ichigo shook his head. What had gotten into him? He struggled to hands and knees, then bent his head in shame, eyes closed. He had always thought of himself as a fair fighter, not someone who would attack someone already down. But it seemed that he had become unhinged. What was it? Was it the loss of Inoue that had done that to him, the knowledge that it had been his own fault for letting her go?

He heard a grunting noise from nearby and opened his eyes. Grimmjow had dragged himself to his feet and was standing in front of him, blood pouring out of his nose, clothes torn, one arm hanging limp. On his face was a ferocious scowl, and in his hand was a wicked-looking knife.

"You bastard," Grimmjow ground out. "I'm gonna nail your ass for good." He raised the knife.

Ichigo knew he should defend himself, but something in his head seemed to have snapped. He felt dizzy, weak. He just sat on the ground, waiting for Grimmjow to stab him with the knife.

Then suddenly there was a blur of movement, almost too fast for him to see. Then he saw what looked like the leg of a child in the air before him, as a tiny, dark-haired girl abruptly appeared on the scene and kicked the knife out of Grimmjow's hand and took him in a headlock before either of them could move. The girl couldn't have been more than four and a half feet tall. She had shoulder-length black hair, deep violet eyes, and the fiercest expression Ichigo had ever seen on a human being before.

"All right, what's going on here?" her voice rang out. Ichigo could only stared, dazed, at this apparition in front of him.

"Wait," he rasped out. "You go to our school, don't you? Karakura High?"

"Yeah." She tightened her grip on Grimmjow, kept him immobilized. "Rukia Kuchiki, sophomore transfer student. Pleased to meet you."

Ichigo suddenly started to laugh. It was all so incongruous. "I'm Ichigo Kurosaki, and that bastard you're holding is Grimmjow Jaggerjaques."

Grimmjow glared. "Get the fuck off me, bitch."

Rukia shook her head. "Not until I know why you were coming at this guy with a knife. It looked like you were about to kill him."

Grimmjow struggled ferociously for another few minutes, then subsided. "The bastard tried to kill me."

"Is that true?" Rukia asked Ichigo.

A slow smile spread over his face. "Yeah. But he deserved it. I caught the bastard breaking and entering into Inoue's apartment, here." He gestured at the decrepit building beside them.

"I never did," shouted Grimmjow. "Check the apartment if you like."

"You bet I will," said Ichigo with a fierce scowl. "Plus he's a known gang member, probably deals drugs."

"No way," shouted Grimmjow. "You know we never touch the hard stuff!"

Rukia was looking very stern, ferocious anger radiating out from her tiny frame, so strong that it held the attention of both Ichigo and Grimmjow locked upon her. "I'll give you each a chance to tell your story." She looked at Grimmjow. "If I let you go, will you refrain from attacking him?"

"Yeah," muttered Grimmjow.

Rukia slowly released her headlock. Grimmjow sprang free and jumped backwards, dropping into a crouch, gaze going back and forth between Rukia and Ichigo.

"Now," said the tiny black-haired girl, hands on her hips. "What's going on here?"

Grimmjow snarled, "Don't think you can get the drop on me again, bitch. As a matter of fact," he said, a nasty grin appearing on his face, "I think I'm going to take you out now." He advanced with a menacing glare on his face, holding the knife ready. Ichigo got ready to jump him.

There was the sound of a siren off in the distance, coming closer, and Grimmjow cursed. Then suddenly he whirled around and took off, moving with the grace and speed of a panther, running around the corner and disappearing.

Ichigo and Rukia were left standing in the dimness, glaring at each other.

Ichigo was the first to recover. He straightened and offered his hand to the girl with a smile. "Wow. Where'd you learn moves like that? I don't think I've ever seen such a great kick." He absently rubbed the back of his head with his hand and felt wetness there. Pulling his hand out, he saw a red smear.

"You're bleeding," Rukia said. Her violet eyes filled with concern. "We better get you to a hospital."

"As it happens," said Ichigo with a grin, "I was just going there… going home, that is."

XxXxXxX

In the front examination room of the Kurosaki Clinic, Rukia sat on a folding chair while Isshin carefully bandaged Ichigo. The younger man winced as Isshin daubed antiseptic on another one of his wounds.

Isshin said cheerfully, "I told you to stay away from Grimmjow, Ichigo."

Ichigo glared and turned his head away.

"So if you hadn't come and saved my son's butt, I might have an even bigger mess to clean up." Isshin nodded approvingly at Rukia. "Did you really kick a knife out of Grimmjow's hand?" His eyebrows rose.

Rukia squirmed slightly. "Well… it was a lucky shot."

"Lucky my ass," said Ichigo. "It was a great move. Where'd you learn it?"

The violet eyes looked up at the ceiling in the corner of the room. "Here and there. I've moved a lot, but I've studied martial arts for a while."

"Hmm." Isshin gave her a piercing look but said nothing as he continued to work on Ichigo's lacerations. "How old are you?"

"I'm a sophomore," said Rukia vaguely. Then she changed the subject. "Did you say that blue-haired kid was a known gang member?"

"Yeah," said Ichigo. "He's a member of Hueco Mundo. You've heard of them, right?"

Rukia shook her head. "I just transferred in today. I don't know much about Karakura."

Ichigo said, "They're the biggest gang in the school. They deal a lot of drugs, are known for lots of violence, vandalism, and who knows what else."

The violet eyes looked interested. Ichigo had never seen anyone with eyes that color before, and he found hers fascinating. The fact that she was half his size but packed a wallop bigger than guys three times her size was another thing that made her interesting. He grinned at her.

"What else would you like to know?"

XxXxXxX

Aizen deftly maneuvered the little car into a halfway-legal parking spot just a bit too close to a fire hydrant. But when Orihime pointed it out to him, he only smiled.

"Don't worry about it. There's no one writing tickets on this street at this time of night."

He opened the car door for her and handed her out. It was a cold, crisp late October night, and a crescent moon was overseeing fitful wisps of clouds. The night air smelled like winter, and Orihime shivered. Aizen draped an arm around her and hugged her close. She turned her face up to his and met his eyes, lidded and amused. Then his lips met hers, her eyes closed and she forgot about the chill of the night.

They walked arm in arm up the stairs of her apartment. She unlocked the door and walked in, then paused on the threshold. She sniffed deeply several times, and then began peering around the apartment with a look of concern on her face.

"What is it?" Aizen asked.

Orihime looked agitated. "Someone's been in my apartment!" she said, turning her head from side to side and sniffing some more.

"What makes you think that?"

"I can smell them," Orihime said, wrinkling her nose.

Aizen kissed her on the tip of her nose. "You're so cute when you do that." He smiled at her. "Are you a bloodhound? What makes you think you can smell someone's trail?" He went to the living room window and checked behind the curtains. "No broken glass, no signs of forced entry. I don't think you have to worry." He poked his head in the bedroom. "Nothing here either."

"I don't know," Orihime said. "I've always been able to tell people apart by their smell. This guy smells like sweat and some kind of cologne. What's more, I've smelled that combination before. Here in the apartment, once before, and…" She trailed off and put one finger to her mouth, lowering her brows in thought and tilting her head to one side. "I know I've smelled it somewhere else, but I can't remember where." She looked up at Aizen. "Can't you smell it?"

Obligingly, he sniffed, but then he shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't smell anything unusual." Then a lazy smile crossed his face and he teased, "Except for that wasabi and cumin bean dip you made yesterday."

She made a face at him. "Don't be silly, Sousuke. I can't smell that one at all anymore."

He laughed and playfully took her face in his hands. "Can you smell me?" He brushed his lips over her nose and then began kissing her again; trailing across her cheek and down her throat, making her close her eyes and almost forget to breathe at the sensation.

Gasping, she put her hands on his chest to push him away and he immediately stopped. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"Orihime," he said calmly, taking both her hands in his and steering her to sit down on the couch. "Let's look at the evidence. Are there any signs of forced entry? Is anything missing?"

"Nooo," she said.

"Realistically, is there even anything here with market value on the street?"

That hurt her a little bit, but she had to admit it was a useful question. She glanced over at Sora's altar, looking the same as it always did. It was of value to her, and she kept her hairpins there at night, but she really owned nothing of commercial value. "No." Her hand went to the golden chain at her throat. "I don't own anything valuable except this locket you gave me." She smiled up at him, suddenly hoping he wouldn't think she was silly.

But at the sight of the locket, his eyes went warm and soft. His hands went to either side of her head and the heat of them was comforting, driving all fear and confusion out of her mind. "So it's settled then. Let's not talk about this any more," he murmured. "I have a better use for that beautiful mouth of yours." Then he bent to kiss her, and this time, she forgot everything as the world went away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

(Originally posted 1/25/2011)

XxXxXxX

Ichigo scowled as the teacher finished introducing the new red-headed kid to the class. He looked like a thug, tattoos covering every visible part of his body including his forehead. He wore a white headband over some of the forehead tattoos, probably to hide their true meaning, Ichigo surmised with suspicion. The teen's bright red hair was pulled back into a spiky high ponytail, and on his face was a mean glower. As he walked to his seat, his face no longer visible to the teacher, he glared threateningly at the other kids in the row. Just what they needed at Karakura High, thought Ichigo in disgust, another gangbanger.

He could see the new kid eying him as well as Grimmjow, who was slouching in a seat in the back row. He felt his own hands clenching into fists. If the new kid tried to give him any trouble, he'd smash his face in, he thought angrily. Just like he'd pounded Grimmjow into the ground. He grimaced with mixed satisfaction and rage.

There had been more cases of Breakdown addiction and overdose at the clinic the past weekend. The young girl, Nel, was still acting like a child and had needed to be restrained that morning. Ichigo's lips twisted with anger. The drug was sweeping the neighborhood, fueling a rise in crimes from petty theft to armed robbery as newly desperate addicts sought money for their fixes. Ichigo glowered at Grimmjow, who sneered back. The asshole kept insisting that Hueco Mundo only dealt in marijuana, but Ichigo knew that was a damn lie. He was certain that Hueco Mundo was involved in at least the distribution of Breakdown, if not also its manufacture. Now if he could only prove that.

In any event, if he couldn't prove any links to their drug dealing, he could at least make sure that Grimmjow and his friends were so busy nursing their injuries that they couldn't do as much damage on the streets. It wasn't as if he had anything else he'd rather do. His glance passed over Orihime, sitting next to the window, but did not settle on her. He scowled even more ferociously.

The bell rang, their teacher scurried out of the door, and Ichigo stuffed his books into his backpack and turned to go. As he moved up the aisle, he tripped over Grimmjow's suddenly outstretched leg. In a flash, he had turned back and smashed his fist into the blue-haired youth's jaw. Grimmjow surged out of his seat, enraged, and swung a fist at Ichigo, who blocked, now grinning.

Then he suddenly found his arms gripped from behind. Grimmjow moved to throw a punch at him, but the student holding his arms sidestepped and moved Ichigo out of range.

"Hey. What's going on? You're gonna kill him!" It was the new kid.

"What's the big idea…?" shouted Ichigo, twisting furiously out of the redhead's hold. What the hell was the guy trying to do, interfering with his righteous fight with Grimmjow? He ducked just as Grimmjow threw a punch at him and it struck the other teen in the jaw. The tattooed redhead growled and decked Grimmjow with a powerful blow, knocking him into the desk across the aisle. The blue-haired teen's eyes narrowed. He was fuming with rage as he struggled back up, ready now to attack the other youth with the same hatred he reserved for Ichigo. Several students leaped back out of the way while a couple of others began cheering on the fighters.

But just then the door opened and one of the teachers marched in. "What's going on here?"

The three brawlers immediately fell silent and looked away from one another.

"Who was fighting? I received a report of fighting in the classroom." The teacher looked around at the other students. "Does someone want to explain what happened here?"

There was no response. The teacher glared at Ichigo, Grimmjow, and the redhead. "If I hear anything more about any of you brawling in the classroom again, you're all going to be suspended. Now get out of here."

Ichigo grabbed his backpack and slammed out of the room, his frustration unsatisfied. As he left, Orihime held out a hand to him and said softly, "Kurosaki-kun…" but he ignored her and kept moving. Dealing with Orihime was the last thing he wanted right now.

XxXxXxX

Rukia ran up the stairs to the third floor and took a left down one of the older corridors. She gave a quick glance up and down the hall. No one in sight. She took out a key and unlocked the unmarked wooden door at the end of the hall and rapidly slipped inside. It was a windowless supply closet, but it was the private space she had requested from the principal where she could meet with her fellow undercover agents.

She stopped and blew out her breath. It had been an eye-opening but frustrating couple of days. She had learned a great deal about rumored gang operations at Karakura High, especially the notorious Hueco Mundo gang, but as yet there was no firm evidence. The gang appeared to be extraordinarily careful. She had made contact with several suspected members, but no opportunities for infiltration had presented themselves.

Principal Barragan had given her the names of suspected gang members and delinquents. Her initial stakeout of one of those students, one of the most notorious fighters in the school, Ichigo Kurosaki, had not led anywhere. When she had finally confronted Ichigo outside an apartment building the youth was himself staking out, Ichigo claimed Grimmjow Jaggerjaques was a Hueco Mundo member, and insisted he was not one. There was no conclusive evidence either way.

But Ichigo had given Rukia a great deal of innuendo and rumor about Hueco Mundo's operations, although again, there were no solid facts. It was exceedingly frustrating. Rukia was still trying to get closer to Ichigo on the grounds that he might actually be a member, but she was starting to think that was a dead end as well.

There was a rattle of another key in the lock and Renji Abarai slipped in, followed closely by Toshiro Hitsugaya, who even at twenty-five could pass for a middle-school student with his short stature and white-blond hair. The two were both experienced undercover cops with many successful operations under their belts, but they both wore identical expressions of dissatisfaction on their faces.

"Hey. What's up?" she asked. The two of them looked at each other. "Any leads?"

Renji scowled. "Not much, but I did manage to make contact with Kurosaki and Jaggerjaques." He rubbed his jaw ruefully. "A couple of hot-headed assholes with short fuses, in my opinion."

"Do you think they're working together, or are they enemies as they appear to be?" asked Rukia.

Renji grimaced. "I'm not sure. I'd bet they're enemies, actually."

"Do you have evidence that either or both of them are members of Hueco Mundo?" she continued.

"Naw. It's surprising how close-mouthed everyone in this school is about that gang." He frowned. "Mention the name, and everybody looks away and realizes they have something else to do."

"Yeah." Rukia sighed. "Kurosaki's the only one I've been able to get to open up about it, and he's got nothing but rumors. I'm inclined to think he's not a member." She turned to the smaller man. "What about you, Toshiro? Any leads?"

The white-haired young man shook his head with annoyance. "It's Captain Hitsugaya, Kuchiki. How many times have I told you that?"

She rolled her eyes. "We're on a mission, jerk. I've gotta get used to calling you Toshiro as a fellow student, or I risk blowing cover." She put her hands on her hips. "Now, are you gonna pull rank, or are you gonna share with us what you found out or not?"

Toshiro scowled, but continued. "There's not a whole lot. This is the tightest I've ever seen a school sealed up. Which makes me think we've got something here. Everybody's scared of Hueco Mundo. No." He met Rukia's eyes. "The entire student body is terrified of them."

He moved further into the room and sat down on a half-open box of filler paper. He looked up at the other two. "But I have managed to gather some information about the gang structure that I'll share with you, and then we should plan our next steps." He paused. "Ordinary members of the gang are given the name 'Arrancar.' They've been initiated into the gang by its leader, the man known as the 'Captain.'"

"Have you found out if the Captain is a student or an adult?" interrupted Rukia.

"The rumors are that he's a student, but I'm not sure about that, because the extent of his rumored activities leads me to believe that he can't be a high school student. He would have to have been awfully young when the gang first started appearing on the streets." He squinted and scratched his head absently before continuing.

"There's a lot of talk about Breakdown, and how fast it's spreading on the streets. Rumor says that Hueco Mundo is controlling the distribution, but other rumors say that they don't have the organization to peddle hard drugs." He shook his head. "I don't believe those rumors. In my opinion, this gang actually has what you might call PR agents spreading disinformation about their activities."

Renji whistled. "Wow. That's quite a level of sophistication for a high school gang."

Toshiro narrowed his eyes. "Yes, we're seeing a very high level of deception and planning. That's what makes me think there's an adult, or adults, behind this whole thing. I've sent a request back to our department, asking them to check out departmental records of organized crime reports on this neighborhood to see if I can scope out a link."

"Have they found anything?" asked Rukia.

The white-haired man grimaced. "Not yet. It's rough because our department is understaffed right now. We're down two officers in our division, so our original plan was to stay put and wait until this Breakdown hit the streets in a big way. But it appears to be spreading earlier than expected, so there was no way we could've just sat back as originally planned. That's why we were chosen to come here."

"Chosen?" asked Renji. "By whom?"

"Police Chief Yamamoto," said Toshiro. "Since our department was decimated by the recent budget cuts, Police Chief Yamamoto is making all the decisions until replacements are chosen."

"Well," Rukia said, "my department chief informed me we're all supposed to work independently, but report to you, Captain Hitsugaya."

The young man gave a curt nod. "Yes. I was informed I'd be put in charge, but I know we'll all have to act fairly independently." He glanced at the other two. "You should be aware that in my estimation, we're all in a pretty precarious situation. This 'Captain,' whoever he is, is extremely well-organized, and from our intelligence, highly dangerous. It is absolutely critical that we not blow our cover."

XxXxXxX

In another room at the opposite end of the school, a brown-haired youth sat behind a desk, wearing headphones, listening to the conversation of the three undercover cops. Two other students sat on chairs in front of the desk, waiting for him to finish. A smirk spread over his finely chiseled face as Toshiro pronounced him "highly dangerous." Then he removed the headset and placed it on the desk, looking up at the dark-skinned youth sitting before him.

"Kaname. Perfect placement with the bugs," he said with approval. "Signal strength is five by five."

The other teen looked stern. "Good. That means Barragan didn't try to double-cross us and give us the wrong room."

Aizen leaned back in his chair. "Barragan doesn't dare cross us at this point," he said calmly. "I knew there was no chance of that."

The third student in the room, a tall, thin senior with fine silver hair, grinned. "He belongs ta ya completely, Aizen-taichou. Ain't that fine?" Then his face became serious. "But how long are ya gonna let these cops run loose? Isn't there a danger they'll discover somethin' and report back before we get a chance ta stop 'em?"

Aizen glanced at him. "They won't discover anything we don't give them." Then he rested his chin on his knuckles and smiled. "But I think it's time to spring our little trap." His eyes glinted with amusement. "Kaname, begin executing the plan I discussed with you two days ago. I want it to come to fruition on the night of the Halloween Dance."

The youth in cornrows bowed his head. "At once, Aizen-taichou."

"Secondly, do we have any preliminary reports on profits from the new operation?" Aizen asked.

"I will have those ready for you by tonight, taichou," Tousen responded. "Every indication is that profits are up by over 300%."

Aizen smiled. "Excellent." He stretched his arms languidly above his head. "And Gin…" His voice trailed off lazily as he regarded his second-in-command. "I want you to make contact with Miss Kuchiki as we discussed."

Gin nodded. "As ya wish, sir."

The two of them stood to leave the room. As Gin reached the door, Aizen spoke again. "Oh, and one more thing, Gin."

The silver-haired youth stopped and turned, still smiling.

"Call a general meeting for this afternoon in the basement. What with these cops here, and the new phase of our operation moving into full gear, I think it's time we meted out some discipline." Aizen's voice was calm.

Gin nodded. "Ya mean— "

Aizen met his eyes. "Yes, I think you know whom we need to make an example of today."

Gin smiled. "I'll see he's made ready for ya, Aizen-taichou."

The two teens bowed and left the room. Aizen shifted in his chair and slid a tablet computer out of the desk but did not turn it on immediately. Propping his head in his hand, he gazed off into the distance and smiled with satisfaction. Everything was going quite well in all areas of his endeavors.

XxXxXxX

Orihime swung her book bag cheerfully as she marched down the hall, humming. At her locker, she stopped and spun her combination, still singing under her breath.

A shadow fell over her and she looked up. "Tatsuki!" she cried in delight. "How's it going?"

Her black-haired friend grinned at her. "Just great. I've got news for you about the Halloween Dance."

Orihime's eyes lit up. "Let me guess. Keigo asked you out!"

Tatsuki's grin widened. "Got it in one!"

Orihime squealed and hugged her friend. "That's terrific! I'm so happy for you." Then she frowned. "Of course, it was kind of late for him to ask, isn't it?"

Tatsuki shrugged. "It's okay. I wasn't even planning to go, so it's not like I was turning away offers. Now I'm trying to decide if what I just bought to wear makes sense."

"You have to go in costume, remember?" Orihime playfully wagged a finger at her.

The other girl scowled. "Don't I know it. What are you going as?"

The auburn-haired girl smiled. "I've been sewing my costume all week." She looked excited. "I'm going as a maid! I've got this cute little apron with ruffles." Her hands sketched scallops in the air. "Then on my head, this little cap-thing that I copied from a picture in a magazine." She waved her hands over her head with a blissful smile on her face. Then she stopped, as Tatsuki didn't seem to share her excitement over her costume. The tomboy was shaking her head slowly from side to side.

"Oh, Orihime, couldn't you pick something else? That's such a cliché. And… isn't it kind of demeaning?"

"Aww, Tatsuki, it's so cute!" Orihime insisted. "It's just a costume! It doesn't say anything about my future career." She put her head on one side at Tatsuki's frown. "So what are you going as?"

Tatsuki blushed. "Well. I'm dressing up as a police officer."

Orihime stared. "Oh, I've seen that costume!" She giggled. "Actually, that's a really sexy one! Is that the one that's really low-cut around the uniform here?" She gestured at her own ample bosom. "Oh, Tatsuki, I think you'll look great in it."

The black-haired girl blushed further and curled a loose sheet of paper in her fingers. "Yeah. I guess it'll be fun."

Orihime leaned closer to her friend, grinning. "Yeah! And Keigo is going to love that outfit," she teased as Tatsuki's face turned redder. "You might have to arrest him."

A pair of warm arms slipped around Orihime from behind. "Good day, Arisawa-san," said a deep baritone voice.

"Sousuke!" cried Orihime with delight as she twisted around in Aizen's arms to hug him. "How are you doing?"

The brown-eyed youth smiled at her from behind his glasses as he kissed her lightly on the lips. "I'm well, Orihime, and you?"

"Just great. We were just talking about our costumes for the Halloween Dance." Her eyes were alight with happiness. "I've almost finished sewing mine. Do you have yours?"

He smiled. "Of course. It's been ready for several days now."

She laughed, looking up into his face. "And you still won't tell me what you're going as?"

He shook his head, matching her laughter. "No, I want it to be a surprise. You'll see on Friday."

She sighed with disappointment, and then shrugged. "Oh well. I can wait." She bent to pick up some books from the bottom of her locker. "Oh, Sousuke— are you free after school today? I wanted to show you something at my house."

He shook his head ruefully. "I'm sorry, Orihime. I'm helping one of the teachers tutor underprivileged kids this afternoon."

Tatsuki grinned in admiration. "Wow, Aizen-san, I don't see how you get all your homework done with all the volunteer work you do."

He smiled modestly behind his glasses. "Well, I enjoy helping others. Besides, it's important for college applications." He glanced at Tatsuki with a sincere expression on his face. "Well, I have to go to class. See you later." With a squeeze of Orihime's hand and a casual wave, he headed off down the hall.

Tatsuki looked after him, sighing. "You sure got lucky, Orihime. Aizen-san is too good to be true."

XxXxXxX

The dank basement room was full of students waiting for the gang meeting to start, standing in dark huddles against the walls. The furnace cast a dim reddish glow over their faces, outlining them in shadows and making them seem almost inhuman. Occasionally a dull clanking from the furnace interrupted the low murmurs of conversation. There was an aura of anticipation tinged with unease among the gathered students. They waited, shifting from foot to foot, for the arrival of their leader. There was the click of a door above, then the sound of measured footsteps descending the iron stairs.

Grimmjow suppressed a shiver. Despite his tough-guy attitude, he was a keen observer of individuals and situations, and although he hid his intelligence behind belligerence, he was very aware of the methods of psychological control their leader used. He knew these meetings served an important purpose in addition to punishing those who defied him. They served to cement Aizen's control over the many dangerous, hot-headed members of his gang, to demonstrate his power over them, to generate fear in their hearts. This was where he demonstrated his strength, so that in other places he only needed to speak very softly to obtain instant obedience. As a result, the meetings could be a dangerous place to be. Grimmjow had watched more than one person die at Aizen's command in this dim room.

As Aizen passed the final landing and turned to face the assembled members of Hueco Mundo below, his gaze passed over them neutrally. Their faces were all turned to his, the way plants turn toward the sun, with varying expressions of fear, sullenness, and admiration.

Grimmjow thought to himself, the bastard knows he cuts a striking figure on the stairs. He was wearing black designer jeans and a black shirt unbuttoned at the top to expose part of his well-muscled chest. He moved with poise across the room as though unaware of all the eyes on him, toward an alcove at the end where a large black armchair was placed on a raised platform. He turned and lowered himself gracefully into the chair, pausing to cast a long, slow look over all his subjects, scrutinizing each of their faces for signs of treachery or insufficient fear.

As he relaxed into the chair, he rested one elbow on an armrest and propped his chin on his knuckles. At his motion a young girl sitting on the floor beside the armchair stood up somewhat unsteadily. Her long black hair was tied into two high ponytails, her eyes heavily made up. She was wearing an extremely skimpy halter top and tight shorts that exposed a great deal of her lithe, sinewy body and generous breasts.

Aizen looked down at her coldly. Grimmjow watched with disgust. Loly was undoubtedly high on something, as usual. She had what she thought was a seductive smile on her lips as she slid onto his lap, wriggling and purring. She kept writhing on his lap, obviously trying to get him excited, as she threaded her arms around his neck and brushed her lips against his ear.

Grimmjow knew Aizen had sometimes allowed this behavior, as it added to his fearsome image to have a beautiful woman engaging in such abject sexual submissiveness in full view of everyone. But today, he had a bored expression on his face. He disentangled her arms from his neck none too gently.

"Loly. Off," he commanded.

She pouted and resisted, trying to keep her arms wrapped around him, looking into his face beseechingly.

He narrowed his eyes at her, heavy with menace, and she instantly dropped her arms and slid off his lap, her face submissive. "I'm sorry, taichou," she murmured, and moved to the side of the room with only a hint of defiance on her face.

Sighing faintly, Aizen raised one finger, and two burly teens in the back of the room came forward carrying a plain metal chair. A slender youth was bound with plastic tie wraps to the arms and legs of the chair. They set him down in front of the furnace, facing Aizen. The brown-haired teen turned his gaze to the prisoner in the chair. The youth, a slight, effeminate fellow with shaggy black hair, looked back at him with terror mingled with defiance. Grimmjow almost felt sorry for the poor kid. Soon all the defiance would be gone.

"Luppi," Aizen said softly. "You were found to be conspiring with my enemies, attempting to pass Hueco Mundo secrets to outsiders. What do you have to say for yourself?"

The slender boy tossed his hair back from his face. "Lies. All lies, taichou. They were spread by my own enemies—" He turned to glare at a tall, black-haired teen lounging against the wall, arms folded. "I would never have gone against your orders, sir."

"Really?" Aizen asked, his voice amused. He straightened in his seat and turned to a dark-skinned teen with his hair in cornrows standing beside his chair. "Kaname, play the recording."

The teen bowed his head. "At once, sir." He bent to fiddle with some switches in a panel set into one of the walls behind the armchair.

There was a muted squeak, and then Luppi's amplified voice came from a hidden speaker. "Yes… I'm a member of Hueco Mundo… I can tell you anything you need to know." There was a muffled laugh, some nearly inaudible muttering, and then Luppi's voice again. "For the right price, of course." He laughed.

Kaname stopped the tape and Aizen looked calmly at Luppi, who had begun to squirm with fear as the recording played. The boy's eyes dropped before Aizen's gaze.

"Taichou…" he whispered, "Please, you have to understand… it's not how it seemed…" His voice trailed off into a hopeless whimper. He knew it was no use. Aizen was not known for his mercy.

Aizen smiled. He stood up suddenly and began to walk with a measured pace towards the squirming captive. "Normally," he mused, "your disloyalty would be punishable by death. But I am in a good mood today, so perhaps I will be merciful and commute your sentence…" He stopped directly in front of the boy, who looked up at him in fear and sudden hope.

Aizen lifted his left hand, and the assembled watchers all saw suddenly that he held a syringe. He lifted it point upwards and gently squeezed it so that one drop of clear liquid dropped from the tip.

"Do you know what this is, Luppi?" he asked in a gentle voice.

There was utter silence in the room. Luppi shook his head mutely.

Aizen smiled again, and his eyes gleamed with a predatory glint that sent uncontrollable tremors through Luppi's body.

"Breakdown," Aizen said softly. "The ultimate drug. Once you get started on it, there is no turning back." His voice was low and intense. "You are consumed by the desire for it from the moment you get up in the morning till the minute you go to bed at night." His voice dropped even lower as he approached Luppi, his eyes fixed upon the smaller boy's. "You become a slave to the drug… or…" He paused and smiled gently at the boy, "to the person who controls its supply."

Aizen stopped and looked around at the silent group of watchers. "You may be interested to know that Hueco Mundo now controls the entire supply of Breakdown to this city." He looked back at Luppi. "You can't believe what kind of power that gives us over its users."

He smiled again, and Luppi licked his lips nervously. Suddenly, Aizen's right hand came up and Grimmjow saw that he held a knife. With a lightning-fast movement, he spun it in his hand and brought it to Luppi's neck. He paused for an instant, then slashed quickly downward and to the left across Luppi's shoulder.

The boy gasped. He hadn't even had time to flinch. Grimmjow watched impassively. He had frequently seen demonstrations of Aizen's inhumanly fast reflexes. All the Espada knew never to get suckered into a knife fight with Aizen. He could cut you before you even knew he had moved. But this must have been the first time this kid had seen it. The boy looked down, no doubt expecting to see Aizen's knife buried in his heart.

But all the other teen had done was slice his clothing. Luppi sucked in his breath as a piece of his shirt fell to the ground, exposing his right shoulder. A thin red line had been left on his skin, oozing small drops of bright red blood. Aizen leaned in with a cruel smile on his face and with another one of those lightning-fast moves brought his left hand, still holding the syringe, to Luppi's neck. Another second and he had injected the full dose into one of Luppi's veins.

The boy stiffened as the drug hit him, and he closed his eyes, eyes rolling back in his head. Aizen stood in front of him, watching dispassionately as the drug took effect. Luppi's face relaxed with pleasure and he gasped, then slumped in his bonds. Eventually he calmed down, and his eyes opened, somewhat hazed, and he stared at Aizen standing directly in front of him.

He laughed. "This—is punishment? I've never felt better in my life." He threw his head back with a brash glare that encompassed everyone in the room.

Aizen tossed the syringe casually on the floor. "You say that now, my friend, but wait until your supply is cut off and your only opportunity for more is in my hands." He smiled a dark, predatory smile that made Grimmjow shudder.

"Your body, heart, and soul now belong to me," Aizen said softly. "I have been merciful and allowed you to live this time. But should you, in the future, disobey the least of my commands, I shall make sure you endure agony beyond the depths of Hell."

He turned to the blue-haired teen. "Grimmjow. Take our prisoner back to his cell for the next few days. Make sure he gets regular doses… for three days. Then—" he paused and looked back at Luppi. "Withhold it for two days… and then contact me."

"Yes, taichou," said Grimmjow deferentially. He jerked his head at two students in the back of the room, who bent to pick up the chair with its captive, now slumped with eyes closed, writhing in pleasure. Hoisting it up between them, they followed Grimmjow towards one of the smaller basement rooms that the gang used as a holding cell.

XxXxXxX

When Grimmjow came back after locking the boy into the small cell, Aizen was settling himself back into his armchair. Grimmjow could smell the nervous sweat from many of the gang members around the room, could see their eyes wide with terror. Obviously Aizen had been twisting the psychological knife while he was gone, perhaps to make sure none of them got the idea they could sample some of the product the gang was now selling... or perhaps merely to amuse himself.

"Now then," Aizen said, casually laying an arm across the back of the chair, "What is our next order of business?"

The dark-skinned teen standing beside him answered immediately. "The initiation of Yammy Riyalgo."

"Very well," said Aizen. "Stand forth, Yammy."

A hulking, bald student with two red tattoos on his face, a thin ponytail and bushy sideburns lumbered forward from one of the walls and slowly moved to stand before Aizen, who coolly looked him up and down.

Grimmjow thought to himself, the poor fucker. He doesn't know what he's getting into. He remembered his own entry into Hueco Mundo. How desperate he had been, first to gain membership in the gang itself, then to climb the ranks to become an Espada, one of the Captain's hand-picked leaders. He had craved the status and power that came with membership and rank in the most powerful gang in the city.

It had only been later that he had realized the price he had to pay.

"Who was responsible for Yammy's initiation?" Aizen asked.

"I was." A thin, pale-skinned teen with shoulder-length black hair and vivid green eyes stepped forward. His face was completely neutral. Aizen regarded him with what passed for approval for him.

"Ulquiorra," he said softly. "Describe the tasks that Yammy has completed."

"We were sent to hijack a shipment of drugs from Mexico that was being delivered to the 47th Street Gang," Ulquiorra began in his cool, uninflected voice. "We obtained intelligence that the transfer was to take place in a public park. Yammy's task was to kill anyone who might be a threat to us." He paused.

"Here is the video I took of the event," he said, handing Kaname a mini-DVD. The dark-skinned youth slipped the disc into the player and a small screen at the other end of the room flared with light.

They all watched as the video showed Yammy slashing a man and leaving his body on the ground as others ran for their lives. Flashing lights appeared in the distance and the video cut off.

Aizen nodded with satisfaction. Yammy had killed on the orders of Hueco Mundo, and the evidence was now in Aizen's hands. Yammy now belonged to him as well. Grimmjow scowled.

Unfortunately, his expression was visible to Aizen, who sat up suddenly and looked at him. "Grimmjow," he said in his deceptively gentle voice, "is there a problem?"

"Yeah," burst out the blue-haired teen, thinking quickly. "Yammy, yer _soft_! There was that other kid on the video you'd been told to kill, and you just ignored him!"

Yammy's face, which had been displaying a look of pride and stupidity, slowly turned hostile and he glared at Grimmjow and raised his fists.

Ulquiorra hastily stepped forward. "We determined that there were no other threats to our operation there. The orders were to kill anyone who might be a threat, and we complied."

"That other kid looked like a threat to me. If it was me, I would have killed them all with one attack," said Grimmjow. "If your orders have the phrase 'kill him' in them then I'm pretty damn sure it's best if you kill him! Right?"

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said in his neutral voice, "You do understand that our problem is not that kid, right? Our assignment was to take possession of the delivery, not to commit pointless murders that could cause us more trouble later. And we accomplished that assignment." He turned to Aizen. "Aizen-sama, do you have any questions for us?"

Aizen's eyes were lidded as they focused on the slender youth, Grimmjow now forgotten. "No. Ulquiorra, I'm satisfied with how you carried out your assignment."

Ulquiorra bowed. "Thank you, sir."

Grimmjow gritted his teeth at Ulquiorra's obsequiousness but said nothing. He knew he had had a narrow escape.

One of Aizen's scariest abilities was the knack of reading people's thoughts in their faces. He had often used this ability to his advantage, especially in maintaining control over his gang. He could root out betrayal before it had a chance to flourish – and crush it ruthlessly in full view of the other members. Grimmjow knew one of the reasons he always seemed to be on Aizen's shit list was because he seemed to be congenitally unable to keep his emotions from showing on his face. Aizen certainly knew of Grimmjow's resistance. But he tolerated it and even found it amusing, as long as Grimmjow toed the line. However, Grimmjow knew if he ever stepped out of line, even once, it would be curtains for him.

Aizen was gazing intently at Yammy now. "Yammy, is it your desire to join the Espada of Hueco Mundo?"

"Yeah," grunted Yammy, standing up a little straighter as Ulquiorra elbowed him in the ribs. "I mean, yes sir, taichou."

"You understand that this is a lifetime commitment? You agree to swear personal loyalty to your taichou for the remainder of your existence?" Aizen's voice was gentle as always, and Grimmjow shuddered.

"I understand, sir!" Yammy snapped out the words as though he were applying for a position in the military.

"Very well." Aizen nodded at two youths in the back of the room, and they came forward with the tattoo equipment. The group watched in silence as the two set up their equipment and began the tattooing process. Yammy slid his jacket off his left shoulder and sat with his face impassive as they drilled into his skin. Aizen watched carefully, his eyes flicking from Yammy's expression to those of the watchers. Grimmjow warily schooled his face to blankness. Aizen would be watching assiduously for signs of disloyalty during this thoroughly scripted event.

When at last the process was done, and the angular number "10" was emblazoned upon Yammy's shoulder, the big man stood up, a look of dumb pride plastered on his face.

Grimmjow joined in with the congratulations and boisterous greetings. But inside, he was cringing as he did every time now he heard the loyalty oath, the oath he himself had taken, the reminder of the irrevocable mark of his own slavery.

XxXxXxX

Orihime had been studying in the library that afternoon. She was packing up her books and getting ready to go home when she heard a murmur of conversation from the hall outside. Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she walked into the hall and was surprised to see Aizen, Tousen, and Ichimaru standing in a tight knot outside the door. Aizen was speaking in a low voice to the other two, who were listening intently with concerned expressions on their faces. She wondered for a moment if she should disturb them, but realized her feet were already taking her up to the group, her heart lifting with anticipation. She could not walk away without greeting the man she loved.

"Hi, Tousen-san, Ichimaru-san," she called out gaily. "Hi, Sousuke! What are you all doing here so late?" She walked up to the three of them with a broad smile.

Tousen turned to look at her. He was frowning heavily and did not greet her, looking almost unnerved at being interrupted.

Ichimaru was smiling as always. When did he ever not smile? She still found him a bit creepy, even though she knew he was Sousuke's best friend. "Hi, Orihime-chan," he called out with a broad smile as she approached.

Aizen's expression was calm as always, his brown eyes alight behind his glasses as he caught sight of her. In a moment, she was in his arms, looking up at him, feeling safe and warm as he kissed her.

"Well. We can continue this conversation at another time, Aizen-san," said Tousen stiffly.

Orihime unwound herself from Aizen's arms. "Oh! I'm sorry, Tousen-san! I can come back later if you're having a private conversation."

Aizen tightened his grip on her. "No need, Orihime. We were just finishing. Please don't go."

"No, really," she insisted. "Please don't let me disturb you. I need to go home anyway."

"Well then, I'll take you there," said Aizen. He took her arm firmly, and without a backward glance, led her away from the others.

"Are you sure?" she asked, twisting her head around to look back at Tousen and Ichimaru. The latter was saying something with a teasing smile to Tousen, who frowned more deeply and made what looked like an angry retort. "It sure looked like I was interrupting something there."

"Nothing important, my dear," Aizen said, wrapping his arm more securely around Orihime.

She couldn't help herself. She relaxed into his grasp and sighed. She felt so comfortable, so protected, so safe in his arms, as though she never needed to worry about any problems ever again. "I have to admit, I think your friends are strange. No offense." She smiled up at him.

He looked down at her with a teasing grin. "This coming from the girl with one best friend who punches her out all the time and the other who grabs her breasts?"

Orihime gave an embarrassed laugh. "I guess you're right. But Tousen-san is always so stern all the time. He doesn't seem to like me, or really, to like anyone, and Ichimaru-san…" she trailed off. "Is just strange. Does he smile all the time?"

Aizen's face turned pensive. "Most of the time. Gin's had a hard life, Orihime, and smiling is his way of coping." He stroked her back gently. "We all have our ways."

"You seem to do just fine. I know your life has been as hard as any of ours, Sousuke, but you keep it all together, earn good grades, do all these extracurriculars… and you never seem to be afraid." She looked up at him. "Do you truly have no fear?"

He smiled down at her, reassuring. "No. I fear nothing. And you don't need to fear anything while you're with me." They had reached the exit that led to the back parking lot. He pushed the door open and held it for her. It was dark and windy outside, and the cold air swirled against them, blowing Orihime's hair back from her face and chilling her ears. She shivered and pulled her coat more tightly around her body.

"But I am afraid," she whispered. "Sousuke, I'm afraid my grades won't be good enough, that I'll miss the utilities payment, that I'll get attacked by some drug addict on my way home, that I'll die alone…"

He held her more tightly. "Don't be afraid. I'll make sure that none of those things happen."

"But how can you?" She looked up, laughing now. "Are you magical, to be able to spin a magic circle of protection around me?"

"Yes." His voice held utter certainty. They stopped by his car, parked in a sheltered spot out of the wind. He looked down at her, smiled with that absolute confidence of his, deep brown eyes intense behind his glasses. He placed a finger on her chin, tilted her face up, and laid his lips on hers. They kissed, a long, soft, stirring kiss. Orihime sighed. Whenever she was with him, she could believe anything he said.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

(Originally posted 2/1/2011.)

XxXxXxX

Loud music spilled out from the doors of the school gym, washing over the knots of students standing in line outside the main doors, waiting to go in to Karakura High's Halloween Dance. Orihime, Aizen, Tatsuki, and Keigo stood talking in the cold, crisp air. Orihime was shivering in her skimpy maid's costume, goose bumps showing on her long legs under fishnet stockings. Tatsuki's police officer's uniform, although low-cut and showing off her softly-rounded cleavage, fortunately came with an overjacket with shiny brass buttons that she was clutching tightly around her body in the chill air. Aizen moved closer to Orihime and draped his arm around her. She huddled closer to him, grateful for his warmth.

Keigo frowned at Aizen, who was wearing long black robes and a white overlayer with black diamonds along the hem. "What are you supposed to be?" There was a note of hostility in his voice.

Aizen's reply was mild. "I'm a shinigami. A Japanese death god," he elaborated at Keigo's baffled stare.

Keigo shook his head. "What kind of death god wears glasses?" Aizen merely smiled placidly at him, ignoring the jibe.

Orihime started telling an involved story about where she had bought the fabric for the maid costume she had made, obviously trying to defuse the tension. Aizen listened politely as she spoke.

Keigo whispered to Tatsuki as Orihime was talking, "What kind of a nerd dresses up as some weird intellectual thing nobody understands?"

Tatsuki glared at him. A moment later, he was rubbing his jaw, where she had landed a hard punch. "I happen to think Aizen-san's costume is very interesting and original," she said in a low voice, frowning. "Certainly more imaginative than a clown costume." She scowled at Keigo, who grinned under his red nose and waggled one of his oversized shoes.

"Aw, come on. Don't you think this is fun?" he teased. Faced with his puppy-dog look under the clown makeup, she relented and grinned back, laughing.

In the meantime, in answer to a question Orihime had asked, Aizen had drawn a very realistic-looking sword from his belt and was holding it up by its green handgrip so that its highly polished steel surface reflected the crescent moon. Orihime noticed that its bronze hilt was shaped like a hexagon.

Trying to make up for his statement earlier, Keigo said, "That sword sure looks real. What's it made out of?"

Aizen smiled and did not quite answer the question. "This is my zanpakutou, or soul cutter. Death gods use them to purify creatures without souls." He flipped the sword so rapidly Orihime couldn't see the motion, and then slid it gracefully into the sheath hanging from his belt.

Keigo laughed. "Who do you think doesn't have a soul around here?"

Tatsuki made an impressed noise. "Did you actually study up on Japanese mythology, Aizen-san, to make that costume?"

He flicked his eyes at her sidelong and gave a rueful half-laugh. "Actually, most of this information is available from a manga."

Keigo snorted, then quickly darted to one side as Tatsuki raised an arm, frowning.

Orihime said brightly, "Hey, I really like manga. My favorite is…" and she was off telling another long, involved story about a manga starring a girl who didn't realize she had god-like powers over the world around her. Tatsuki listened for a while, then tuned it out the way she often tuned out her friend's soliloquies.

Their group reached the head of the line and was swept on into the gym, which had been transformed into a dim cave of pounding, thumping music that vibrated in their bones lit by occasional flashes of brilliant strobes. Smiling, Aizen took Orihime's arm and led her onto the dance floor.

XxXxXxX

Rukia moved among the crowd of students dancing, posing, and shouting in the dimly-lit gym. She was irritated. The maid outfit she was wearing was ill-fitting, and the cheap material was rubbing her skin raw in several places, including the elastic around the skirt waistband, and the garters at the top of the fishnet stockings. As a result, she was having a hard time concentrating on observing her various targets. She had caught sight of Grimmjow earlier, and was trying to track him, but he had disappeared in the crowd. Same with Ichigo Kurosaki; the young man had passed by her, scowling, obviously not looking to have a good time dancing, but when she tried to tail him she had lost him as well in the crowd.

This had not put her in a good mood, as she was normally quite competent at her job. So when a tall, thin senior with fine silver hair accosted her at the drinking fountain, she was more curt than usual.

"Hey, Rukia Kuchiki, isn't it?" The slender youth grinned at her, eyes squinted nearly shut.

She narrowed her eyes in return. She had seen the distinctive-looking student around the school before, but was unaware of his name. "How do you know my name?" she snapped before she could stop herself.

The tall student's grin widened. "My," he said, "ya really don't have any manners at all, do ya? I'm Gin Ichimaru, at yer service." He sketched a half-mocking bow, that broad smile never leaving his lips.

Rukia flushed. "I'm sorry," she said. She scanned the slender teen in faded jeans. She had heard the name "Gin Ichimaru" before; he was rumored to be a fount of knowledge about the school and its inhabitants and was often discovered lurking in corridors, spying on other students. Nobody seemed to really trust him, but they all agreed he seemed to know everything that went on in Karakura High. He had actually been on her list of people to contact, but she hadn't yet had the time to follow up with him. "Please forgive my rudeness."

He leaned backward, sliding his hands into his pockets, still grinning. "Aww, ya didn't really believe I was serious? Don't worry. I don' tell on people."

Her eyes narrowed again. Part of her was cautioning her that here could be a valuable source of information on Karakura High, but her instincts were all screaming at her for some reason. As he spoke to her, she felt incredible repulsion as she looked at his skeletal fingers; his thin lips stretched in that broad grin, his squinted eyes – for some reason, he reminded her of a hissing snake. As he spoke to her, it felt like serpents were winding themselves around her neck. She shook her head in annoyance at herself. She couldn't let these fancies interfere with her job. "Why did you want to talk to me?" she asked.

"Ah… no particular reason, really." He lifted one thin hand, scratched behind his neck, regarding her out of his narrowed eyes. "I was jus' takin' a walk around the school, an' I happened ta spot ya. I'd heard ya were lookin' for information."

Rukia winced. Had she really been that obvious that she was pumping people for information?

Gin's smile widened again. "Don't look so worried. Information is kinda my specialty. I've got somethin' that might be real valuable for ya."

Now she was back in territory where she was more comfortable. "Oh yeah? What makes you think so?"

He leaned in close to her to whisper in her ear. She had to repress a shudder at his proximity. His whisper sounded precisely like a snake hissing, and she hated snakes. "Does the name Hueco Mundo ring a bell with ya? How 'bout Breakdown?"

She stiffened, but kept her face neutral. "I might be interested in hearing more about those."

Gin said softly, "Interested enough to make it worth my while?"

She leaned back and studied his face, now avid with greed. She had dealt with many people like him before, eager to trade rumors heard on the street for cash. But was he a reliable source? "Maybe. If it's good information."

"Oh, it's good," he assured her. He leaned in close again and she had to force herself not to shrink away. "Ya know Grimmjow Jaggerjaques?" At her nod, he smiled and continued. "I was jus' walkin' around the school yesterday, an' I saw him and Nnoitra Jiruga in a real tight conference. They ran off when they saw me, but I found this on the floor where they were." He handed her a dirty slip of paper with faint pencil marks on it.

She turned it over and read, "B deliv CH 7p 31." She looked up at Ichimaru. "What's this supposed to mean?"

His smile turned sly. "I think ya should be able to figure it out." He cocked his head to one side. "Is that worth anythin' to ya?"

She looked down at the paper again. "Yeah. Yeah, I think it is." Slowly, she reached into the pocket of her maid's apron and drew out a folded fifty-dollar bill. Keeping her hand low, she slipped it to Ichimaru, whose grin widened as he made the bill disappear.

"Thanks," he said. "Pleasure doin' business with ya. I'll let ya know if I hear anythin' more." With one last smirk, he turned to slither away. Rukia finally allowed herself to shudder as he moved out of her view.

She scrutinized the faded pencil marks once again. Then she began walking toward a quieter hallway, pulling out her cell phone and dialing Toshiro Hitsugaya's number.

"Captain Hitsugaya?" she asked, checking to make sure no one was around. "Were you able to find out the address for the Hueco Mundo clubhouse?" She paused and listened for a moment. "Good. Because I think we can get a warrant for it tonight." Another pause, then she grinned into the phone. "Yeah. I got a hot tip on a Breakdown delivery. Maybe we can finally get enough to shut those bastards down."

XxXxXxX

Ichigo paced the halls behind the gym, listening to the muffled throbbing of the bass line of the dance music. He was scowling. He still wasn't sure why he had come to the dance, without a date, without a costume. But he just felt he couldn't let it go without at least checking it out. He had been inside the gym earlier, scanning the dancers, trying not to admit to himself that he was looking for one auburn-headed girl amongst the crowds. He had caught a glimpse of her long fall of hair earlier, pressed up against a taller, brown-haired youth wearing some sort of white and black robes.

He had turned away and gone into the school corridors… to pace, to be alone, to think.

He rounded a corner, and was surprised to see, at the very end of the long hallway, Kaname Tousen and Grimmjow Jaggerjaques talking. Tousen was passing something to Grimmjow. Then he put his head down and walked away, turning the far corner. Grimmjow also moved rapidly away in a different direction.

Ichigo stared after them, suddenly suspicious. He knew Tousen was one of Sousuke Aizen's best friends; the two were always together. He had seen them talking only a few minutes ago. Aizen had been telling something at length to Tousen, and the dark-skinned teen had nodded in acknowledgment and moved off. Actually, he thought to himself, Tousen's friendship with Aizen was odd. It often seemed more that Tousen was Aizen's follower rather than an equal. Aizen certainly didn't seem to treat Tousen with affection or even courtesy; what Ichigo had heard of their conversations sounded more like Aizen giving Tousen orders.

He frowned. Could Tousen be connected with Hueco Mundo? It had certainly seemed like he was doing some sort of business with Grimmjow, who he knew was a high-ranking member of the gang. If Tousen was doing business with Hueco Mundo, then surely Aizen must be involved too. He knew Tousen well enough to know the teen did nothing without clearing it with Aizen first.

He narrowed his eyes. Could Aizen, the straight-A, squeaky-clean student body president, somehow be involved with Hueco Mundo? His spirits suddenly lifted for some reason.

Now all he had to do was prove it, and then tell Orihime about the connection. It was important that he protect her. He had been suspicious of Aizen for a long time. If he could only gather proof, surely she would see that Aizen was not good for her. Surely she would realize that it was a mistake to go out with him.

Fired with resolve, he moved silently down the hall, walking quietly in the shadows in Tousen's wake.

XxXxXxX

Orihime sighed blissfully as the music shifted to another slow dance. Warm and relaxed in Sousuke's arms, she thought she couldn't feel happier or more at peace.

He brushed his lips over her hair as he held her close, rocking gently to the music. She could feel his hands slide up her back and tangle in her hair. He ran his fingers through her long hair, and she could hear his sigh.

"I love your hair," he murmured. "So thick, and long, and lush."

She rested her cheek against his chest, and he could feel her smile. "Thank you."

"I have a favor to ask of you, Orihime."

"Anything, Sousuke."

He smiled. "Haven't I taught you yet not to make such blanket promises?" Then his face turned sober. "I have no place to sleep tonight, and was wondering if I could use your couch for a night?"

She pushed away from him, looking up into his eyes. "What happened?" she asked, full of concern. She knew he lived with a relative who was not a parent, but he was so close-mouthed about his family that she had no idea whether his parents were even alive.

At first, she had tried to draw information out of him by telling him about her parents, how her dad was a drunk who used to beat her, and worse, and her mother, a drug addict and whore who had slapped her around ever since she was a baby. How Sora had finally taken her away from all that when she was four. Aizen had listened patiently, with gentle concern in his eyes, and had held her tightly in his arms as she cried again. But he had not mentioned one word about his family, or about his home. She didn't even know where he lived.

Now, he hesitated, as if still unsure whether to breach his silence. Then he gave a long sigh, realizing he owed her an explanation in return for the favor. "My… guardian told me not to come home tonight," he said, looking directly into her eyes. There was just a hint of bitterness in the word "guardian" as he uttered it.

She hugged him tightly. "Of course. Of course you can stay with me. You can stay anytime." She buried her face in his white robe. The fabric was soft against her skin, and she could smell his woodsy scent on it. She could hear her own relatives in her head, chastising her for letting a boy stay in her apartment overnight. But they didn't know Sousuke. She could trust him. He would never do anything unseemly.

He stroked her hair again with his long fingers and kissed her forehead. "Thank you," he whispered. "You don't know how much that means to me…"

She took his head in her hands and tilted his head down to hers. "You don't even need to ask, Sousuke. I'd like my home to be yours." She stopped suddenly and blushed. Surely she was coming on too strong. That almost sounded like a declaration of… something serious. And it was far too early to be serious.

But he was looking at her with a strange, warm gaze. "Orihime," he said softly. "I've been alone for a very long time. I have not had a home for… so long." He took a deep breath, and then drew her in to his chest again. "Not since…" He broke off, and his voice changed. It became rougher than she had ever heard, broken, almost hesitant. For a moment, it seemed like he was no longer perfectly confident, cool, utterly in control as she had always known him to be. "Orihime, you make me feel things I haven't felt since I did have a home. I want to tell you something I have never told anyone else. About… my family." He paused, and she made a listening noise. "When I was five—"

Suddenly, there was a disturbance in the crowd of dancers nearby, and Ichigo Kurosaki was shoved from ten feet away, hard. He fell against Orihime, causing her to lose her balance and begin to fall over. She teetered on her fancy shoes, arms flailing. In a flash, Aizen had grabbed her and kept her from falling. He rounded on Ichigo, his face hard.

"What are you doing, you bastard?" he hissed in a low, dangerous voice so completely different from his usual suave, calm tones that Ichigo's jaw dropped. He suddenly flashed on his memory of Aizen brawling like a street kid, that night six years ago. Aizen's hands were balled into fists, his eyes narrowed with ferocious anger. "You hurt Orihime. I'm going to make you pay for that."

Ichigo glared at him. "How dare you talk about Orihime that way? I'm the one who's known her all her life. I'm the one who knows how to protect her." He raised his fists as well and began to circle.

Orihime fluttered around them, suddenly afraid for Aizen. Ichigo was such a powerful fighter, and for all she knew, Aizen was simply a bookish nerd who had never struck a blow in his life. But then, looking into her boyfriend's face, she saw something different than she had ever seen before. He was terrifying, his brown eyes flashing behind his glasses, what looked like a hundred years of constrained rage flaring in the depths of his gaze. She swallowed as she realized that she would not want to meet him in a dark alley like this. "I'm fine, you guys, please…" She trailed off, then reached out and took Aizen's arm, feeling the tense, corded muscles beneath her hand.

Aizen paused as she put her hand on his arm. He took a breath, looked at her, and then, as though a light switch had been turned off, his face and body abruptly relaxed, his hands opening and falling to his sides. He smiled, and was once more his gentle self. "Of course, Orihime," he said. Turning to Ichigo, who was still crouched in a fighter's stance with fists at the ready, he lifted a graceful hand, palm open, offering peace, his expression mild.

Then, before Orihime could blink, Aizen was standing right in front of Ichigo, two fingers touching his chest. "Ichigo. I didn't realize that by touching Orihime, I could almost touch your heart." He smiled a serene, superior smile as Ichigo's eyes widened in surprise at his speed. Orihime had always thought Ichigo was tall, but as they stood close together she realized Aizen had an inch or two of height on the redhead, as he looked down on the other teen with a faintly amused smirk. The moment of anger had passed, and his emotions were under control again.

Ichigo stepped back, glared. He hesitated for a long beat, glanced at Orihime as if he were about to say something. Then he whirled away and disappeared into the crowd. Aizen chuckled as he left. "Poor, angry boy," he said in a sympathetic tone, shaking his head. He gathered Orihime in his arms again, physically turning her away from staring at where Ichigo had vanished into the press of dancing students.

She looked up at him again. He was smiling warmly, his deep brown eyes calm behind his glasses. "You were saying…?" she prompted, hoping to get him back into the confessional mood he had been in before.

But Aizen simply shrugged. "Nothing important, really. Why don't we just enjoy the music for a while?" Then he leaned down and took hold of two fistfuls of her warm auburn hair, drew her close, and crushed his mouth against hers. It took her breath away, and she felt her heart pounding against his, even as his tongue swept past her lips and moved fast and deep into her. Her fingers splayed over his back, her eyes closed, and all she could hear was the music inside her.

XxXxXxX

Orihime's eyes flew open and she realized she was in her bedroom. It was the middle of the night. She wasn't sure what had awakened her, but there was an eerie blue glow streaming underneath her bedroom door. It looked like it was coming from her living room. Her heart started pumping with terror; it surely couldn't be one of those alien abductions she read about in the tabloids? Not those little green men she had once imagined moving through her life? Then she came fully awake and realized there must be a rational explanation.

After all, she had her first houseguest ever, sleeping in the living room.

Aizen had come with her to her house late that night, after the dance had finished, and had insisted that the couch was quite comfortable enough for him to spend the night on. They had said a chaste good night (almost to Orihime's disappointment… although she knew Aizen would be gentlemanly about spending the night in her house, a part of her had been filled with secret excitement and had kind of hoped that he would try something). Then Orihime had retired to her bedroom, where she had fallen asleep instantly, exhausted from the day's activities.

She drew on her robe and moved to the bedroom door and slipped it open silently. The couch was empty, blankets thrown back from the cushions, and Aizen's laptop was sitting open on the coffee table – the source of the blue glow. She took a breath of relief.

But where was Aizen? She noticed the front door was ajar and approached it. There was a murmur of conversation from the hallway; it sounded like he was on a cell phone. She looked at the clock. It was three in the morning; to whom could Aizen be talking at this hour?

She wandered over to the laptop and looked at the screen. He had a couple of browser windows open; she saw the cursor blinking in the middle of a text field. She bent closer to look at the website; it seemed somehow familiar. She glanced at the logo at the upper left in magenta and white, and recognized the Common Application for college admissions. She had been working on her own college application just the other day; Aizen must be doing the same.

Then she frowned. She didn't recognize the page he was on. Looking closer, she saw that it was open to the teacher recommendation page, and the text field contained a letter of recommendation. She skimmed it and saw phrases such as, "most brilliant student I've ever had in twenty years of teaching," "truly altruistic and always helping others," and "natural leader."

The letter was partially completed, the cursor blinking in the text field. At the bottom was a teacher's digital signature.

Now that was odd, she thought. This was the password-protected section of the website that only teachers were supposed to access. What was Aizen doing on this site, looking at a teacher recommendation? Or— she looked at the blinking cursor— editing a teacher recommendation? She frowned.

Curious, she clicked on one of the other windows visible on the screen. It was the College Board site, and open to a page listing scores for the SAT standardized college admissions test. She read the text across the top.

"Dear Sousuke Aizen: Congratulations! Out of the 1,523,548 US students who took the Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT) this year, you are one of only 273 who received a perfect score of 2400 on the SAT."

Her eyebrows lifted. She knew he was smart, but she didn't realize he was that exceptional. She had never heard of anyone who got a perfect score on the SAT before. He hadn't even told her about it. She would have thought he would be happy and would have wanted to celebrate with her, as he had been spending a great deal of time on the college admissions process this fall, as were many seniors. He had more than once told her that he was hoping going to an Ivy League college would be his ticket out of poverty.

Feeling a little guilty, but incredibly curious to learn more about her mysterious boyfriend, she clicked on another window. This one was a news article, stating that several college admissions sites had been hacked, but reassuring readers that "no personally identifying information had been revealed."

Orihime caught herself. What was she doing? It was wrong of her to be spying on Sousuke this way. She put all the windows back the way she found them. If he wanted to tell her about his SAT score, he would. And she was sure there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he was on a teacher recommendation site.

Surely Sousuke would never do anything dishonest! She frowned at herself, not liking her suspicions. She got up off the floor where she had been sitting looking at the laptop and crept back into her room, silently closing the door. As she slipped into her cold bed, she found herself lying awake and looking at the ceiling, still lit with that pale blue glow. After her first automatic reaction of shock, she found herself wondering. She knew how important getting into a good college was for Aizen. She started remembering a number of little incidents with him, the way he ignored traffic and parking laws, the offhand comments he made indicating his disregard, no, his scorn, for rules and laws…

No. He was a good, ethical person. He wouldn't cheat on college admissions… would he? Orihime rolled over and punched her pillow. Angry with herself, she realized that based on the last few weeks' observations, she did believe that he might be capable of such a thing. But that wasn't proof. How could she think such a thing of the man she loved? She rolled over again in the bed, agitated.

There was a click from the bedroom door and it slowly opened.

"Orihime?" came a soft voice.

Orihime sat up in bed. "Yes? Sousuke, is that you?" she asked.

A dark silhouette came into the room, sat on her bed. The blue glow was gone and the room was dark beyond.

"I heard you moving around, thought you might still be awake. I couldn't sleep." She saw the shadow of an arm reach out and felt his fingers on her cheek. She sighed and turned into his touch, her fears and suspicions evaporating.

"I can't sleep either," she said.

"What's wrong?" he asked. The bed shifted under his weight as he moved closer, draped an arm over her shoulders.

"Oh… nothing," she answered. "I'm just worrying about things going on in my life."

He rubbed her shoulders gently. "Why don't you tell me about it? It might make you feel better."

"Oh, I don't know," she answered absently, beginning to relax as his strong fingers worked on the knots in her back and neck. She sighed deeply and luxuriously, moved closer to him. The mattress moved under his weight as he shifted again until he was lying full-length on the bed beside her, his body pressing up against hers.

"Mmmm," he murmured. "This feels good. You're so warm." His hands moved from her back to her hair, began gently stroking her scalp.

"Ahhh, that feels wonderful, what you're doing," she responded, her body relaxing under his ministrations.

He rolled her closer to him, turning her face so it was toward him. Continuing to stroke her hair, he drew his face to hers and let his lips brush hers. Sleepy again now, she returned the kiss, feeling a rush of pleasure spread throughout her body.

His hands came up to stroke her through her thin nightgown, and a thrill went through her. They kissed again, and again, and all her thoughts, suspicions, and fears disappeared. All she could do was feel. On some level, she realized that she was lying in her bed with a guy, something she had never done before, and that she undoubtedly should ask him to leave before they went too far. After all, she was wearing almost nothing. But somehow, she could not bring herself to stop kissing him, threading her fingers through his thick, soft hair, running her hands over his warm, well-muscled back, opening herself to him as he kissed her, touched her.

He drew back from the kiss for a moment, and his lips grazed her ear. "Do you want me to stop?" he whispered.

She knew that he would if she asked him to, but she suddenly realized that was not what she wanted. Worse, he might not ask again if she told him to stop now.

"No," she whispered back, running her hands along the length of his taut and well-formed torso. "No. Please don't stop."

XxXxXxX

Rukia gritted her teeth as she pushed open the precinct door precisely at 8:00am the next morning, All Souls Day, she thought to herself ruefully. She didn't want to do this, didn't want to face her captain after the disastrous night before. On Halloween night, of all nights, she'd drawn critical manpower away from patrolling the streets, and onto a red herring.

She unlatched the gate at the counter, defiantly lifted her chin. She wasn't going to look beaten. The desk sergeant carefully didn't meet her eyes as she strolled past him and on into the bullpen. You could always tell from the bullpen when a cop had failed, she thought with a twinge of embarrassment. No one met your eyes. All her colleagues, after sidelong glances toward her, appeared to be exceedingly busy at their desks, not looking in her direction or even up and away from their paperwork.

The path to Captain Ukitake's office had never seemed so long. But finally she reached the door with its ground glass pane, and knocked.

"Come in," she heard from inside, and entered, closing the door behind her.

Ukitake's office was small and untidy, crammed with gunmetal-gray file cabinets with drawers hanging half-open and files placed sideways on top of each drawer. Against the back wall, an ancient radiator dripped rusty liquid on the utilitarian green linoleum. The blinds were drawn on the tiny window, but the office was filled with light of a soft, muted yellow, because Ukitake had brought a non-regulation floor lamp in from home, since the fluorescent lights brought on his infamous migraines.

Ukitake was a brilliant cop who had had to give up working the streets, which he loved, where he could personally serve the victimized and downtrodden, due to his debilitating migraines and allergies. Rukia had never met a man she admired more. Ukitake was the most honorable and caring man she had ever met, and his code of honor was one she constantly strived to emulate.

Rukia sighed as she came to attention in front of his overflowing desk. Ukitake's head was bent, only his white cornsilk hair visible as he scratched away at some paperwork; he finished and put it aside, raising his head to fix Rukia with a gentle green gaze.

"Sir," she said stiffly. "I apologize for the events of last night. I—"

"Rukia." His voice was soft. "Please sit down."

She lowered herself onto the government-issue metal chair in front of his desk, and heard the green plastic cushion squeak as she sat. She met his eyes grimly. The sympathy in them floored her.

He gave a long sigh. "I don't need a direct report from you because I was there. I led the team that went to the property last night after Captain Hitsugaya secured the warrant. We know some of the gangs have agents within the police departments, so I thought I'd handle it myself to make sure it stayed unleaked." He leaned back in his chair; put a thin hand to the back of his head.

Rukia sucked in her breath. "I didn't know, sir." That made it even worse.

"We all know how much you want to stop the spread of Breakdown. Your eagerness, and Hitsugaya's efforts, all the extra hours you've put in, are commendable." His eyes focused on her. "Word on the street is that this gang you're investigating, Hueco Mundo, is definitely behind the distribution and sales. They're raking in profits on the suffering of many people." He sighed heavily and gestured to his desk. "Crimes of all types are up; violence has increased on the streets; hospital admissions for overdoses, knife and gunshot wounds, have tripled." He leaned forward. "I'm telling you this so you know that we all value what you're doing."

Rukia lowered her eyes. "I know, sir."

He leaned back again, idly picking up a letter opener and twirling it in his thin fingers. "When I went to the target address last night, I didn't know what to expect. I think we were prepared for anything. But when I led the team in there... Have you heard the details yet?"

She met his gaze and shook her head.

He gave another long sigh and looked directly at her. "I'm going to give it to you straight, so you hear it all from me and not from someone else and can be prepared. We'll be taking some flack, from the press, from some elected officials, no doubt." His gaze was level. "That address turned out to be a safe house for battered women." He paused at Rukia's sharp intake of breath. "Yes. We went in; it was a nice facility. Comfortable. And there were all these terrified young girls coming out of their rooms." He shook his head. "We followed standard procedure, thinking there were armed and dangerous hoodlums in there. Instead, we found frightened teenagers. One girl—" He paused. "She couldn't have been more than sixteen, with black pigtails and eyes the oddest shade of magenta. She had bruises all over her face and arms, her eyes ringed with deep purple, her lips cut and scabbed. Her ribs had been kicked in; her collarbone was broken and her arm in a sling." He looked up at the far corner of his office ceiling. "Her eyes were intense with fear, hate, and scorn. She looked straight at me and spat in my face."

Rukia groaned and bent her head again.

"And another girl, a petite blonde, with a toddler clinging to her legs. She was terrified. The baby girl had old yellow bruises on her face. She was screaming the whole time. I was mortified." He paused again for a long time. Rukia knew how much he cared about the people he was tried to protect. It only made this all worse. "At the end, after we had ransacked everything, conducted a thorough search without finding anything illegal, much less any Breakdown, the woman who ran the place came out and tore into me." He ran a finger under his uniform collar and winced. "She reamed me a new one. Quite a commanding presence, tall, blonde, like an Amazon."

He sighed. "I think the department's going to be facing a lawsuit. Not to mention that she emphasized over and over again that we had just compromised the safety of all the women and children there."

Rukia said, "What happened? Who did the legwork on the address? My sources all agreed that Hueco Mundo does have a clubhouse the gang members operate out of, stay overnight."

Ukitake sighed again. "Hitsugaya's lieutenant, a very diligent and serious young woman named Momo Hinamori. She apparently put in tremendous amounts of time tracking it down, both from street sources and ownership records. On the surface, it looked like a bulls-eye. The property was owned by a shell company, hidden under several layers of interlocking ownerships. There were mysterious comings and goings, and the residents appeared to be furtive, concealing their identities, discouraging visits. They never answered the door to solicitors." He raised his eyebrows. "Wouldn't you agree it sounds like a suspicious location? She got multiple tips that it was Hueco Mundo's clubhouse, verified from several independent sources. However, as you know, the ownership setup, the high level of secrecy, are also typical of such safe houses. It just so happens it also looked like a criminal operation. Somebody planned this out very carefully, directing our attention to this safe house that's run by a very reputable women's rights organization, while the true address of the gang clubhouse remains unknown."

"But— how?" asked Rukia in puzzlement. "Was it a setup from the beginning then?"

Ukitake heaved a larger sigh. "Apparently. It has the look of an elaborate plan, with all the witnesses carefully prepped, several layers of misdirection applied." He sighed again. "Poor Momo. I don't know if you know her, but she's been hit hard before when she made a mistake on one of our previous cases and a crime boss walked because of lack of evidence. She was just devastated by this. Had a nervous breakdown. I visited her in the hospital just this morning." He shook his head. "Whoever planned this apparently did their homework. They knew Hinamori was going to be working on the case; it appeared to be intentionally targeted toward her weak spots. It was set up to deliberately lead her to think she could make up for what had happened before, that she could make a difference in taking down the gang that's selling Breakdown."

He looked up and there was fury in his eyes. "It was a perfectly baited trap. They lured her in— lured all of us in— and snapped it shut on us last night." His face flared with anger. "I don't need to tell you, Officer Kuchiki, that we need to find— and take down— whoever is doing this to us. They're manipulating us, using us, making us run in circles for their amusement."

"Is it…" Rukia asked, "Do you think it's this 'Captain' of Hueco Mundo we keep hearing about?"

"Maybe. Or that could be more misdirection." He leaned back in his chair. "One thing is definite. We're not dealing with just a high school gang. This is a full-blown organized crime syndicate, and I'm certain the leaders are adults. We're looking into suspected drug lords, crime bosses from the area, trying to find who could be capable of running an operation of this magnitude. We're going to get help from the federal Drug Enforcement Agency. We still don't know where the drug is being manufactured."

He pinned Rukia with his glare. "I need you to find out more. Give us a link. Find out at least who's running the gang at Karakura High. Key activities are definitely centered there. Give us a thread we can unravel so we can find this 'Captain.'"

"Yes, sir!" Rukia snapped out. She stood up. "I'll get to work right away, sir." She marched out of the office.

Once alone again, Ukitake sighed, and he allowed his face to fill with the exhaustion he had been holding at bay. He knew that Rukia, and Toshiro, would chastise themselves far harder than any official disciplinary action would.

He turned to look off into the distance, trying to imagine the face of their hidden enemy. Who were they facing? And would they be capable of finding him and bringing him to justice?


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**A/N:** In this chapter, you'll see a flashback of Aizen's past that was first included in_ Triangle of Immortality_. Those of you who have read _Triangle_ can skip the flashback here if you wish (it's in italics), although some small details have been added to increase understanding of this story line's characteristics.

**Warnings:** Angst, graphic violence, death (in the flashback).

(Originally posted 2/17/2011.)

XxXxXxX

Aizen opened his eyes in the predawn darkness of Orihime's apartment. He was curled around her, arms encircling her protectively, face buried in her sweet-smelling hair. Her breathing was peaceful and even. He lay there a moment, enjoying the sensation of holding her. It was still dark outside; his internal clock told him it was around five in the morning. He had never needed much sleep, and usually he got out of bed immediately in the early mornings, finding that the time to work and plan for the day gave him a huge advantage over all the people who lay in bed late every morning. It amused him to know his adversaries were behind from the moment they got up. He had never given a lover the pleasure of waking up beside him in bed.

But today… he decided that today would be different.

He smiled into the darkness. The night had been fulfilling in more ways than one. His plans had gone perfectly as always.

Kaname had called him during the night with the coded responses that indicated that everything had gone down as planned at the clubhouse. The house was safe for the foreseeable future, and more cops had been made to look like incompetent fools. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction in the dimness of Orihime's bedroom. They would be more vulnerable at the next round of budget cuts. No evidence of Breakdown possession had been traced to Hueco Mundo, and the cops were chasing after his planted red herrings.

Yes, excellent progress toward his business goals had been made… and toward his personal ones as well…

He brought his lips to the back of Orihime's head, kissed her. She sighed in her sleep but did not awaken. He remembered the previous night, Orihime's beautiful, firm body lying under his, her eager, inexperienced kisses. She had been somewhat clumsy in bed, but so delightfully willing to learn, so enthusiastic about pleasing him. So responsive to his touch. He sighed with contentment at the memory.

He rolled over and lay in the dark, eyes open, considering. He remembered Orihime's sweet voice whispering, "I love you," after they had taken pleasure together. For the first time, he had felt an odd twinge at those words. He had heard them many times before from so many people, and it had previously only given him a sense of smug gratification. Yet another soul had fallen to his blandishments, another being had come under his control. As it should be. He did not care why he craved control and power so intensely, only that he was successful at obtaining it, deeply enjoyed it, and fully intended to continue acquiring it as rapidly as possible by whatever means necessary.

But tonight… he had felt something different. Yes, he realized that Orihime was coming more under his spell with every passing day. He could see the powerful emotions gripping her. When they made love last night she had held him as though she would never let him go. It had been, of course, her first time, so it was not surprising that she should be so emotionally affected. But what was strange had been his own reaction. He was pleased, yes. But… there was something else. It disturbed him like nothing else had disturbed him for many years.

He had truly thought himself incapable of feeling certain emotions, had thought they had been burned out of him long ago. He had accepted that state, even welcomed it; emotions only limited his actions, hindered his rational, linear progression towards his goals.

But now, as he felt Orihime warm in his arms, for the first time he wondered, questioned those goals. He had lived as an emotionless being for so many years; but in the last few weeks with Orihime, he had felt a part of him thought long dead come to life again; as though his frostbitten soul were thawing… and as it warmed it burned, it flared, it sent tendrils of intense pain throughout his existence… yet somehow, he did not want it to stop. The way a person with nerve damage welcomed the pain of pins and needles as the signal of awakening life, so did this pain remind him of another Sousuke Aizen, of the child he had been a lifetime ago, when he had once loved and been loved, so long ago, before everything changed…

XxXxXxX

_He had been five years old. He was at home watching television after dinner with his parents and older sister when four youths burst into their house. He remembered looking up from the TV in shock as they entered the living room._

"_All right!" one of the young men shouted. "Everybody over in the corner and don't move!" The boy had been frozen, staring in shock at what he recognized from the TV as a gun pointed right at him. His father, tall, dark-haired and imposing, had stood up slowly, but the young child could already recognize that he was furious._

"_What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. The lead attacker swung his gun to point at him._

"_Shut up and get down on the floor or I'll shoot!"_

_It happened in what seemed like an instant. His father, eyes narrowing in rage, had charged the youth and succeeded in knocking him to the ground. But in that moment, one of the others had raised his gun and fired. The shot was so loud, the young boy felt it in his eardrums and mouth more than he heard it, and afterwards, it continued echoing in his head, muting the sound of the television. His father crumpled to the floor and the boy stared at him as blood began to ooze from beneath his shirt._

_His mother began screaming and crying, shrieking in panic and fear. One of the other youths approached her and slapped her face, saying, "Shaddup, bitch!" But she was too far gone into the horror of seeing her husband killed in front of her eyes. She was hysterical, unable to stop screaming, and then his sister began crying too, sobbing and wailing. The young boy could see that the noise was making the youths, already jittery, even more nervous._

"_Shut up, or I'll shoot you all!" one of them shouted. The threat had no effect, and the crying continued. The young boy, standing immobile in the corner, wanted to urge his mother and sister to please be quiet; couldn't they see what was going to happen?_

_And then it did. Two more gunshots rang out, making the boy's ears ring even more. He stood there as both his mother and sister collapsed on the floor. His mother was closest, and he could see blood spurting from her wound and spreading across the hardwood floor._

_One of the youths pointed his gun at him then. "I gotta off this one too, don' wan' any witnesses, right?" The young boy looked all the way up into his attacker's face. He knew his large brown eyes beneath their long lashes were wide, peeping from underneath long bangs of soft brown hair. Even at the age of five he knew of the power of physical appearance, and he made his eyes go wider with innocence and gentleness, gazing straight into the eyes of the older youth. The other's eyes flickered, and the young boy saw the change in his expression. "Aww… I can't shoot a kid that little," he muttered. "'Sides, he's too young to testify against us." The leader was stirring on the floor by this time, and he turned to help him up._

"_Come on!" one of the others urged. "Tie 'im up and let's go upstairs to get the money." One of them pulled out handcuffs and locked the young boy's hands to the arm of a heavy wooden chair. Then they pounded up the stairs._

_He heard the youths stomping around upstairs and cursing. He stood alone in the living room looking at the bodies of his family, not moving, for what seemed like a very long time. Eventually he heard more thumps on the stairs. The youths were running downstairs; a couple of them had bags filled with small items, he supposed his mother's jewelry and other small valuables._

_He could tell they were angry, that they had not found what they expected. He learned later that the whole thing had been a case of mistaken identity, that there had been a rumor that their neighbor, who owned a small grocery, kept his life savings in his mattress in cash. Somehow the youths had mistaken their house for the neighbor's. His family had been shot over nothing._

_He was somewhat surprised to realize that he felt no fear, only a slow, deep anger spreading throughout his entire body. He was already memorizing each of their faces, mannerisms, and voices._

_One of them turned to him. "D'ya s'pose the kid would know where he kept the money?" He schooled his face to neutrality, to hide the boiling rage within him. Once again he looked up from behind ignorant, innocent eyes at the youths._

"_Naw," said another, turning away. "Let's get outta here."_

_And with that they were gone. He stood there, chained to the arm of the chair, listening to their footsteps die away. And then it was silent in the living room that had once held the three people he loved most in his life. In the silence he gradually became aware that his mother was still alive. She was whimpering and gasping._

"_Mommy," he called, but she did not respond, just continued with tiny moans and cries of pain. He saw that she was not moving, and the blood was continuing to seep from her wound. He had been taught to call 911 in an emergency, and the telephone was on the kitchen counter. The small boy began dragging the heavy chair, slowly, in the direction of the kitchen. The handcuffs hurt his hands, but he kept on going._

_After what seemed like a very long time he managed to get himself and the chair into the kitchen, just beneath where the telephone was mounted. But there he had a problem. He could see the telephone, just above his eye level, on the counter. But he could not reach it, with his hands locked to the chair. The small boy tried lifting his bound hands up to the counter level. He tried over and over again, but he was just not strong enough to raise the chair sufficiently. He tried to see if he could reach the phone with his head, but he was just a little bit too short. He collapsed over the chair arm and his eyes began to sting with tears. Then he told himself he must not cry, and the tears dried up. He began systematically trying to slide his hands out of the handcuffs, but they were clamped over his wrists too tightly._

_He thought of trying to get out the kitchen door to go for help, but he could not reach the doorknob either. He thought of flicking the light switch on and off to signal a neighbor, but it was also out of his reach. He tried shouting for help, but no one came._

_So he began methodically attempting once more to slip his hands out of the handcuffs. He worked and worked at it for a long time, as the whimpers and cries from the living room gradually became fainter and fainter until they stopped altogether._

_When they finally found him the next morning, still handcuffed to the chair in the kitchen, his wrists were so battered they looked like raw meat. The handcuffs and chair arm were covered in blood._

_Much later, they told him his family was dead, but he didn't cry. He never cried again._

XxXxXxX

At first, Aizen had dated Orihime on a whim. He had heard the whispers naming her the idol of Karakura High, and it had piqued his interest. He had noticed that she was beautiful… that her hair was the exact color of his dead sister's. He knew she was intelligent from his previous rivalry with her for top honors in mathematics. She had been a worthy competitor. He very quickly grew bored with unintelligent partners, and the quick, sharp wit he had observed in her eyes, though submerged beneath the ditzy exterior, had been appealing. He had decided to romance her for his amusement.

Somewhere along the way, it had turned into more than amusement.

He smiled again at the irony of it all. He was the one who had always been above the petty strivings of humanity, watching it all with an amused half-smile, dealing out rewards and punishments to those who served him or crossed him. Now, a woman with flame-colored hair had burned him. He had played with fire, and had himself been consumed.

Her beauty, her smiles, her far-ranging intelligence that she kept hidden under a protective shell, her vulnerability, the hidden pain of her early childhood… he did not know what it was that caught and captivated him, but the totality of Orihime mesmerized him, drew him in, kept him circling around her. She had set him on fire, fired his frozen core and changed him forever.

Originally, he had planned to bed her tonight to get her out of his system, so that he could then move on. But now he realized that was not going to happen. In the past, he had always felt a vague letdown after the first time he slept with someone… a feeling that somehow, they had not measured up to an intangible ideal. He had always assumed that it was simply that he grew bored quickly with his lovers, one more piece of evidence that he was superior to the common run of humanity. But now… his feelings for Orihime had, if anything, become more intense after the night of intimacy.

He had found himself wanting to pleasure her, to give her intense joy, to make her first experience one of wonder… not merely to gratify his own ego, but for her. And now all he wanted was to repeat the experience, to build on it, over and over again. For the first time in his life, it did not matter what his lover's skill level was, nor how skilled his own performance had been. Love with Orihime had been more than a game or an event, more than merely a giving and taking of pleasure. It had transcended all of these and had taken his thoughts in entirely new directions. He had found himself thinking of what would be best for another human being… for the first time since he had lost his family. He wanted to make her happy. He wanted to give her everything. As she lay in his arms in the darkness, he struggled with the strange and unknown feeling that he somehow wanted to share everything he owned and controlled with another human being. It was perhaps the first truly unselfish feeling he could remember having.

It was a dangerous emotion for one in his position. Surely he could keep this irrational feeling under control… but did he want to?

Sudden waves of intense joy were sweeping through his body, overwhelming him, inundating him. He had never felt this way before. It was orders of magnitude more intense than the gratification he got from seeing others grovel before him, from gloating in front of a victim over a perfectly executed plan… the pure pleasure he had thought he had felt from those experiences was nothing, nothing in comparison.

He turned his face up to the darkness and found himself smiling. Why should he deny himself this new joy? He had always gotten whatever he wanted, whatever the cost. Why should he not get what he wanted now?

But… what were the implications? He would have to rethink many of his plans… and there would be danger from both his enemies and his own subordinates. It would require careful handling.

Could she fit into his plans? Would she even want to? He smiled to himself again at the odd notion that someone else's desires should ever matter in his schemes. He undoubtedly could persuade her to relax her completely rigid stance on the law… but there were some crimes she would never condone. He would have to hide some of his past from her, hide some of his true self from her no matter what.

But… could he keep her as an isolated, protected pet? Immediately, he rejected the idea before his quick mind could begin to spin possible scenarios. No. To do that would destroy something precious, the core of what made this new feeling exist. She would have to be his partner. But could she accept what he did, his criminal way of life? He considered carefully.

When all was said and done, his primary gift was with people, the way he could mold their emotions and direct their motivations. He had manipulated his way into a position of power, continued to use people's fear, respect, and admiration to bend their wills to his desires. Sometimes that bending turned into breaking, and he always had felt only amused indifference when a personality broke under the force of his handling. But now, for the first time, he felt concern that his powerful personality not crush another.

Orihime was, he knew, because of her troubled past, her despicable parents, the harshness of her early life, psychologically vulnerable. She could be crushed by his strength. He did not want to destroy a thing of beauty. Nor did he want to warp it beyond recognition.

There should be a way to gradually reveal his true self to her without destroying either her love for him or her essential nature.

Another choice would be to … modify his own activities. He had considered this in the past. He was working now for profit, power and control. Once he had enough of a nest egg, illegal means would no longer be necessary. He knew enough about business to know that with sufficient capital and connections, he could still rack up profits while staying on the reputable side of the law, something that would not have been possible had he remained a dirt-poor child from the slums of Karakura. His lips twisted briefly. Despite the constant media blather about rags to riches stories, he knew that the so-called American dream was a myth perpetuated by the rich to keep the poor docile. It was the new opiate of the people in the United States today. In reality, the poor had no chance to move out of their class… if they played by the rules. It was necessary to break the rules if one wanted to succeed financially… at least at the beginning.

In order to succeed… one needed resources, wealth, guidance, and information. Aizen knew he was at a substantial disadvantage in that he lacked mentors as well as wealth. However, that lack of guidance could be overcome with sufficient knowledge. Ever since he was very young, Aizen had craved information and had realized that knowledge was the true path to power. To his great joy, he had discovered one vast source of free information when he was very young: the library. Aizen had read a great deal, haunting the library ever since he had been a young child, for there knowledge was accessible even to the poorest of the poor. With no one to guide his reading, he had browsed the library shelves indiscriminately, reading widely from children's to adult books, from fiction to nonfiction, from the so-called classics to currently popular best-sellers.

He had learned a lot about human nature from fiction. One of his favorite authors, the French writer Honoré de Balzac, had once written, "Behind every great fortune lies a great crime." And yet, so many of the perpetrators of those great crimes, once having achieved their fortune, had buried their past. With their new wealth they had bought legitimacy and respectability. He could list the stories of the great American entrepreneurs, all their sordid pasts, the subtle and blatant cheating, deceit, murder that had been committed… and how it was all washed clean by the flood of wealth. He smirked in the darkness. He planned to follow in their illustrious footsteps.

Currently, his profits were breaking all records. Breakdown was the most successful product he had ever handled. At this rate, he would soon be an exceedingly wealthy man by anyone's standards. He could then build an identity as a legitimate businessman and enjoy his wealth in public. He had planned first to complete his Ivy League college education. There he would gain the legitimate business connections that would catapult him to the top of the business world. And there… he had long planned that he would find a daughter of a rich, powerful family, woo her, marry her, and make himself indispensable to the rulers of the family, insinuate or threaten his way into an executive position in the family business. It would be the fastest way to acquire control over billions.

But now, for the first time, he was reconsidering those plans.

He looked again at Orihime, sleeping peacefully beside him in the predawn light. Her face, in repose, was beautiful; long golden lashes just brushing her cheeks, her full lips slightly parted as her chest rose and fell with gentle, slow breaths.

It would be boring, after all, too easy, to marry into money. How much more challenging, more satisfying, to build that huge fortune all on his own, pitting only his wits and cunning against the business world. Why should he limit himself in his personal life by constraining himself to become personally linked with someone whose primary attribute was wealth, who would undoubtedly be inferior to him, someone whom he would have to spend a great deal of time and energy manipulating into acceding to his wishes. How infinitely preferable it would be, to make the choice of a companion based on his own desires… on intellectual compatibility, on beauty… on love.

He stroked Orihime's cheek gently. She sighed and murmured.

He turned back to stare at the ceiling again. If that was the path he was to take, there was much to accomplish. He had already begun the first few steps toward socializing Orihime into accepting eventual membership in his gang. Now… he considered. He had deliberately built a particular persona for himself as leader of Hueco Mundo, with the only goal in creating that persona one of control over the violent and aggressive members of his gang. He had built up and nurtured that persona to be a figure of fear and dread, larger than life, almost supernatural in his abilities and inclinations. He had read the famous statesman Machiavelli's work on the holding of power, _The Prince_, many times. One of his primary guidelines for command was that it was better to be feared than to be loved, and Aizen had always followed that tenet scrupulously.

But what could he do now, if he wanted to be loved by one particular individual? What would be her reaction when she found out that her boyfriend was actually the dreaded "Captain" of Hueco Mundo? His eyes narrowed. There must be a way to make sure that the revelation did not strain her love to the breaking point. Casually, possessively, he caressed the sleeping Orihime's warm, thick hair as his quicksilver mind began to devise strategies.

XxXxXxX

The alarm clock rang and Ichigo reached one arm out of bed to silence it. Scowling, he dragged himself out of bed. It had been a singularly unsatisfying night. The dance had been miserable, as he had half-expected. He had spent much of the evening tailing Tousen without much to show for it. After his initial meeting with Grimmjow, the dark-skinned teen had merely wandered the dance floor, occasionally moving out into the quiet of the school hallways behind the gym to make calls on his cell phone, conversations Ichigo had been too far away to hear.

And the worst of all had been the way Orihime had spent the entire evening dancing with Aizen. When he had bumped into the two of them he had been sure he was finally going to be able to settle his beef with the brown-haired teen in the way he knew best: with his fists. But then to his chagrin, Orihime herself had come between them. He had seen the flash of fear in her eyes— fear of _him_. She had wanted to protect _Aizen _from_ him_. It was that flash in Orihime's eyes, more than Aizen's sudden calmness, that had deflated Ichigo, that had made him turn away. How could he fight in front of Orihime?

He punched his fist into his hand in frustration. The only way to deal with this was rationally, with objective reasoning. He had to convince Orihime rationally that Aizen was bad for her. He grimaced. Of course, objective reasoning had never been his strong suit. Still, he had to do it. He had to. It had nothing to do with his own feelings for Orihime. It was merely the right thing to do. It was necessary to protect Orihime from Aizen.

He hurriedly went through the motions of getting ready for school and prepared to get out of the house early. He was going to at least talk to Orihime before she went to school this morning.

He skipped breakfast, saying a quick goodbye to Yuzu and Karin, dodging his father's fists and ignoring his morning taunts. Then he was out on the street in the chill air, running to Orihime's apartment building. He would get there before she left for school; accompany her as she walked to class. He didn't know yet what he would say, but somehow he would convince her of the danger, the threat posed to her by Aizen.

He skidded to a stop as he turned the corner onto Orihime's block. There were two figures locked in an embrace outside her front door. To his horror, he realized that they were Aizen and Orihime. Then the auburn-haired girl waved cheerily at the brown-haired youth, who strode to a sports car parked at the curb and sped off. Orihime stayed on the sidewalk, face turned in the direction where Aizen had driven off.

Ichigo clenched his fists. Had the bastard actually spent the night with Orihime? No. It couldn't be true. Orihime would never do such a thing.

He found his feet were carrying him forward; now he was running to Orihime as she stood there on the sidewalk, not even wearing a jacket, seemingly oblivious to the early-morning cold, still looking after the teen who had driven away.

"Inoue," he gasped, coming to a stop a few feet behind her.

She whirled in shock, the fear in her eyes turning to relief when she saw him. "Kurosaki-kun," she said in her lovely warm voice. "What are you doing here so early in the morning?" She smiled at him, but her eyes were puzzled.

"I— just needed to talk to you about something important, Inoue," he said, still out of breath.

Then he stopped. He couldn't help himself. "Was that Aizen I saw driving away just now?" he inquired, and couldn't keep an angry note out of his voice.

To his chagrin, Orihime blushed a cute shade of pink at his words. "Uh, yes, it was, Kurosaki-kun." She looked down, then said, her words blurring together as they tumbled out of her mouth, "You see, uh, his guardian wouldn't let him in the house last night, so he asked if he could sleep on my couch, and I said yes." Her face was bright red now, and she wrung her hands together.

Ichigo shook his head. He knew he could be kind of clueless, but even he could see she was lying. Something more had happened than Aizen innocently sleeping on her couch last night. "Inoue," he began, "Aizen really isn't good for you. He's just not safe."

Orihime's expression turned from embarrassment to defensiveness. "What? What do you mean? Aizen-san is a kind, good person," she said.

"How much do you really know about his past?" Ichigo persisted.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I mean that he's just playing a role of the squeaky clean straight-A student. I think he's involved in some bad things," Ichigo said, his voice turning suspicious. "I've seen him doing some questionable things over the years."

Orihime shook her head. "What do you mean?"

"I've seen him brawling on the street with thugs and criminals, although he pretends to be just a nerd. And I've seen his friends having secret conversations with Hueco Mundo members."

Orihime's voice was cold. "What are you accusing him of?"

"I'm saying that I think he has gang connections. I think he has dealings with Hueco Mundo but is hiding it." Ichigo wanted to shake Orihime. He knew his evidence was sketchy to say the least, but his gut was telling him he had to get her away from Aizen now at any cost. "Haven't you noticed him behaving suspiciously?"

Orihime was shaking her head, but Ichigo could see a flicker of doubt in her eyes. "You're so obsessed with Hueco Mundo, Kurosaki-kun. You see everything as a conspiracy with that gang behind it."

"Because it's true!" Ichigo burst out, clenching his fists again. "Don't you see, Inoue? Hueco Mundo is behind the spread of Breakdown. Haven't you seen all the new addicts on the streets? Haven't you heard about the rise in street crime?" He glared at her. "We've certainly seen it first-hand at the clinic. Our beds are filled with overdose cases."

"Yes, I agree it's terrible." Orihime was shouting now as well. "But Aizen-san has nothing to do with it! How can you even say that?"

"Come on!" Ichigo stuck his hands in his pockets to restrain himself from grabbing Orihime. "How does he get the money to have that fancy car, to take you out to all these expensive restaurants?"

Orihime stiffened. "Aizen-san has a part-time job."

"Yeah, as an intern at a local company. Do the math, Inoue! You're supposed to be the mathematics genius. How many hours a week would he have to work at minimum wage to be able to afford to take you out every week?"

"How do you know how often he takes me out? Have you been spying on me, Kurosaki?" Now Orihime had her hands on her hips, anger flaring in her eyes, spurred on by the doubt his words were raising in her.

"No!" he shouted. "I've just been trying to watch out for you, since you don't seem to be able to do it for yourself!"

Now she was furious. "Kurosaki, just because you've been my friend all my life doesn't give you the right to tell me whom I can choose as a boyfriend. I like Aizen-san and I'm going to continue to go out with him no matter what. Now, leave me alone so I can get ready for school." With that she spun around and flounced back into her apartment building.

Ichigo stood alone on the sidewalk after she had left, cursing himself. What had happened to reasoned argument? He had just yelled at her and risked jeopardizing his own friendship with her. Angrily, he turned and began walking to school, fists jammed into his pockets and a huge scowl on his face. It seemed he had made things worse instead of better.

XxXxXxX

Gin Ichimaru stood in the heavy shadows of the unkempt vegetation around the old apartment building where he had watched the orange-haired youth haranguing the auburn-haired girl. So… Kurosaki thought Aizen was connected with Hueco Mundo. That was interesting information. He put his head on one side as he considered what he should do with it.

He knew many people considered him Aizen's best friend. But Gin knew better. He doubted that Aizen really had any friends. Although Aizen made a show of friendship toward Gin, whether Aizen actually held any affection for him was something he himself didn't really know; in fact, he doubted it. However, he did know he was useful to the gang leader, and that serving him was quite lucrative as well as conferring a certain authority and power upon Gin himself. Nevertheless, Gin collected information about Aizen as well as about everybody else, and he was judicious about how he chose to use or reveal that information.

The question of Aizen's relationship with Orihime Inoue— now that was interesting. He knew how Aizen treated most women he'd had sexual relationships with, and there were some key differences with Inoue. Nevertheless, Gin had some difficulty believing that Aizen could really have what others might consider a normal relationship with anyone. After observing his leader from his position by his side for several years now, he felt he understood him better than anyone else.

Aizen's serenity, his calm even when backed into a corner baffled his enemies and even his allies. He was extraordinarily hard to read. But not to one who knew him as well as Gin. Gin could read most of his emotions by now. It was a very useful survival skill to possess, as one of Aizen's direct subordinates in Hueco Mundo. And in this case…

Gin knew Aizen enjoyed playing with people. Most of what he did served dual purposes, cementing his control over his gang or furthering various plans to increase Hueco Mundo's influence or profits. However, Gin had seen him toy with his subordinates purely for his amusement many times. Aizen held all of their lives in his hands, and he was not above playing lethal games merely on a whim, especially with those who had displeased him for one reason or another. Gin had seen the pleasure in Aizen's eyes as his victims cowered in terror before him. It entertained him to see their fear, and he was indifferent to whether they lived or died.

Gin shivered. If what he suspected was true, it would be easy to displease Aizen over Orihime Inoue. He did not want to be added to the list of people Aizen had casually sent to their deaths. He had gotten to where he was, and kept his position as Aizen's top lieutenant, by carefully anticipating and attending to his leader's every need and desire.

Regardless of Aizen's personal feelings, he was clearly choosing to indulge himself in at least the trappings of a romantic relationship with the girl. And if that was the game Aizen was playing, it was Gin's job, at least at present, to support it.

So… it would probably be safest, for now, to inform Aizen of this new development with Kurosaki. But Gin certainly intended to keep an eye on the situation as it developed, to see if there was a way he could turn events to his own advantage.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**A/N:** For those who have read the sequel to this story, _Triangle of Immortality_: please remember that many of the side characters may have the same names, but different life stories. Specifically, Kisuke Urahara and Shinji Hirako, who are introduced in this chapter, are at least somewhat different from the Urahara and Hirako in _Triangle_.

(Originally posted 3/9/2011.)

XxXxXxX

Rukia bent to get more books out of her locker, her heart far heavier than her overloaded backpack, ever since the Halloween night disaster. She sighed. It was a setback. But she had to look at it as just one step along the way to their eventual goal. They _would_ find out who was controlling Hueco Mundo… and they _would_ bring him, or them, to justice. It was just time to try some other tactics. She would be meeting with Principal Barragan later in the day, to discuss just what some of those other tactics could be.

As she stood, she felt a creepy twinge between her shoulder blades, and turned to find Gin Ichimaru standing right behind her, grinning as always.

Rukia crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the skinny, silver-haired teen. She narrowed her eyes. "You!" she hissed. "I'm surprised you dare show your face to me after what happened that night."

Ichimaru's ever present smile widened. "I hope ya realize that all the information I gave ya was correct—it was y'all that screwed up and went to the wrong place."

Rukia scowled at him. "Do you know the true location of Hueco Mundo's clubhouse?"

He shrugged, "If I knew such valuable information, I'd definitely be sellin' it to the highest bidder." He grinned at her. "I'll let ya know if I've got somethin' like that for sale."

"Humph." Rukia stuck her nose in the air and began to walk to her next class.

Ichimaru matched her pace, slowing his lanky legs down and taking small steps. "Don'cha wanna know if I've anythin' else for sale?" He shot her a sidelong glance out of his squinting eyes, and Rukia suppressed a shiver.

"All right," she said, not breaking stride. "I'll bite. What have you got?"

"Are ya interested in the person who's manufacturin' Breakdown?"

Rukia came to an abrupt stop and stared at him. "How would _you_ get that kind of information?"

Ichimaru shrugged. "I go here and there, and I always listen… and sometimes I hear some interestin' stuff." He leaned in close and leered at her. "Wanna hear what it is?"

Rukia stiffened and leaned away, feeling repulsed again. But she nodded. "Yeah, sure."

"It'll cost ya." Ichimaru's grin was avid. "One thousand dollars."

"What?" Rukia yelped. "You're crazy. There's no way I've got that kind of money." She resumed walking, angry now.

Ichimaru paced her again. "Aww, ain't ya curious… even just a little bit?" he teased.

Rukia glared at him. "No way I'm giving you a thousand dollars after your previous tip was such a bust," she spat.

Ichimaru pouted. "That's hurtful," he said. "I didn't do anythin' wrong— I gave ya the right information after all. Yer just blamin' me for yer own screwup." He shrugged elaborately. "Oh well. Never mind then. Just lemme know if ya change yer mind." He dropped away from her and slipped back into the crowd of students so quickly that she lost sight of him within seconds.

Shrugging, she set her mouth and continued walking down the hall.

XxXxXxX

At the door to the supply closet, Rukia paused and turned to casually look out the window. She believed this quiet hall was empty as usual, but it always paid to be cautious. Checking a second time that she was unobserved, she pushed her key into the lock and turned it, then slipped inside the small room. Toshiro Hitsugaya was already there and waiting for her, his ever-present scowl gracing his face.

Rukia gave him a small nod. "You wanted to meet?" she asked.

"Yes." Hitsugaya gave her a firm nod in return. "I've received an anonymous tip that looks interesting."

Rukia sighed. "Our department has received nearly one hundred anonymous tips. We've had to waste a great deal of time checking them out. Not one of them has led anywhere."

Hitsugaya's lip twisted. "Yeah, so have we. But this one looks different." He paused and waited to make sure she was paying attention. "There's a local company, Hirako Pharmaceuticals, which synthesizes industrial chemicals. They've got a lab less than five miles from here, down in the warehouse district. Small company, been in business about ten years, on shaky financial ground."

Rukia raised one eyebrow. "Hmm. So you think they might be looking for additional sources of revenue?"

Hitsugaya grimaced. "It's always possible. The owner, Shinji Hirako, appears to be a bit of a shady character. Long blond hair, kind of snarky personality, makes no secret he was a former hippie who experimented with psychedelics. He's got two drug busts during his college days, and has published anonymous articles on the internet at recreational drug-related sites. One of them, in particular, was a long biographical piece about Owsley." He eyed Rukia intently. "Are you aware of who he was?"

Rukia shook her head.

Hitsugaya crossed his arms and leaned back. "Augustus Owsley Stanley III was the underground chemist who first mass-produced high-quality LSD in the 1960s." He watched her reaction.

Rukia's eyes narrowed. "That would definitely shoot Hirako to the top of my list. What was the nature of the tip? Do you have any other information that indicates he might be producing Breakdown?"

Hitsugaya frowned. "Unfortunately, not yet enough for a warrant. The tip was phoned in and couldn't be traced. It simply said that if we were looking for the Breakdown manufacturer, we might want to look at Hirako Pharmaceuticals."

Rukia nodded. "In any event, we don't want a repeat of the clubhouse debacle. We need good thorough evidence before we can go in."

The white-haired man nodded. "I'd like to see if we can send a man in, get someone undercover," he continued. "Do you have anyone who could be a good candidate?"

Rukia pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You mean, as an employee?"

"Yeah. How about you or Abarai going in as a student intern?"

She frowned. "We'd probably want someone who knows something about chemistry, so they could make a believable student intern. I don't see either myself or Abarai in that role." She raised her eyes to the other man. "What about trying to find someone already on the inside, feel them out a bit, see if they might be willing to talk?"

Hitsugaya shrugged. "It's a possibility. I've got a list of Hirako Pharmaceuticals employees. Actually, there are three student interns on the list. Maybe you could talk to Barragan about them, see whether he thinks they're trustworthy."

Rukia took the piece of paper from him. "All right. I'm meeting with him this afternoon."

XxXxXxX

Rukia pushed open the glass door into the main office of Karakura High. A slight, black-haired woman in a white dress was sitting at the front desk. Rukia walked up to the desk and smiled at the woman. Spotting the black and white plastic name plate on the desk, she said, "Hello, Ms. Vega. My name is Rukia Kuchiki, and I'm here for an appointment with Principal Barragan."

The woman pressed an intercom button. "Sir, your 2:30 appointment, Rukia Kuchiki, is here."

"Send her in," came the gruff voice over the intercom.

Barragan was sitting at his high-backed chair behind his oversized desk, frowning underneath his thick mustache. Rukia carefully closed the door behind her and approached the desk. Then she stopped short just inside the door. Barragan had another visitor, a student sitting in one of the chairs opposite his desk. Rukia recognized him vaguely. He was one of the quiet students she hadn't paid as much attention to. His eyes were mild and somehow apologetic behind rectangular glasses, and the bangs of his unruly brown hair fell in his face. One of the forgettable nerds you saw in every high school.

Rukia turned to Barragan. "I'm sorry, Principal Barragan. I didn't realize you already had a visitor," she said. "I'll come back later." She turned to go.

"No, Kuchiki-san," the principal said. "Please don't leave. I've asked Aizen-san to come to this meeting because I think he can help you with your task."

Rukia's eyes narrowed. Was Barragan breaking her cover? "I don't understand what you mean, Principal Barragan. Surely only you can help me." She gave him a meaning glance.

The brown-haired youth cleared his throat and got to his feet. "I'm really sorry," he said in a soft, apologetic voice. "I didn't mean to intrude. Why don't I just wait in the outer office until you're done?" He slipped out the door, hunching his shoulders with a meek sideways glance, and it clicked shut behind him.

Alone with Barragan, Rukia put her hands on her hips. "Principal Barragan, I hope you're not going to tell me you broke my cover."

"Calm down, Kuchiki-san," Barragan said, leaning back in his high-backed office chair. "I haven't said anything yet to anybody. But when you sent over your list of Hirako Pharmaceuticals interns, I saw one person on there who might be helpful to you. And I was just thinking, since you're not getting anywhere in your investigation, that you might find it helpful to enlist certain hand-picked students on your side."

Rukia glared at him. "It's not that we're not getting anywhere in our investigation. We're making progress in a difficult case against dangerous opponents."

Barragan looked up at her from under bushy eyebrows. "That's not what I heard. I heard you raided the wrong building, got your department slapped with a lawsuit."

Rukia felt herself flushing. "Your sources are not as accurate as you'd like to think. Personally, I suspect a leak. Someone tipped off Hueco Mundo, gave them time to set up a red herring." She leaned forward and pointed a finger at the old man. "How sure are you that no information has leaked from this school?"

Barragan shrugged. "Only two teachers and one admin besides myself know of your presence at the school. They're all long-time employees and quite trustworthy."

"That's already four people too many," muttered Rukia. She fixed Barragan with a level stare. "We might want to contact one of the Hirako Pharmaceuticals interns, but only after a thorough background check. Aren't you jumping the gun here?"

"Fine. In that case, I haven't said anything. I'll just tell Ms. Vega to send him away." He reached out a hand to his intercom.

"Wait," said Rukia. She glanced up at Barragan. "Why don't you tell me first about this student. It's true that this gang appears to operate only with student members here at Karakura High. All of the staff and teachers have checked out clean. We do need a student who's been around a while, whom no one suspects, to listen and find out more information."

Barragan shrugged. "As you wish." He withdrew his hand from the intercom button. "This particular student meets your criteria. He grew up in this neighborhood. He's been a model student for years, gets straight A's. Actually," the old man's voice was gruff, "he's our star student. Our best student ever. He's applying to Ivy League colleges – and if he gets in, he'll be the first student from Karakura High ever to do so."

"So?" Rukia asked, her mouth twisting with impatience. "I don't care a bit about his academic record. What I'm concerned about, is he likely to be in a position where he'll hear useful information about what's going on at Hirako Pharmaceuticals, about gang activity. Being a good student is likely to lessen the possibility that he's well-connected. I've seen this kid around. He's just a nerd. Nerds are unimportant in high school hierarchies." Irritated, she clasped her hands behind her back, began to pace back and forth along the carpet in front of the large wooden desk. "This was part of my training as an undercover agent, Barragan." She didn't mean it to be, but she was tired and angry and she knew her voice sounded condescending. "We study the social structures of secondary school. This kid isn't going to be a factor here."

"Fine," said Barragan, shrugging. "I was just trying to give you some help. I want to see you stop the spread of Breakdown as much as anyone else."

Rukia gave a long sigh, deflating, and sat down in the chair in front of Barragan's desk. "Yeah. And I appreciate your help." She gave him a rueful glance. "You're right. We're not making any progress. So you may be right."

"Have you positively identified any gang members from the list I gave you?" asked Barragan.

Rukia exhaled heavily again. "No. We're focusing on Grimmjow Jaggerjaques and Ichigo Kurosaki, but aside from the fact that they hate each other, we're not sure if either of them are Hueco Mundo members." Her lip twisted scornfully. "They each claim to be innocent, but swear the other one is a gang member."

Barragan snorted. "They probably both are. They're certainly both one hundred percent delinquents. I have one of those two in my office every other week."

Rukia pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed again. "The problem is that I can't find any reliable sources in this school. Everybody contradicts everybody else."

Barragan smiled sardonically at her. "Welcome to high school."

Rukia rubbed her hand across her face. "Okay. Let's go over the list of the three student interns again. I guess what we're trying to do now is find someone who can give us information on Hirako Pharmaceuticals, since we're not making progress at the distribution end here."

"Fine." Barragan leaned forward. "Here are the records of all three." He tossed a set of folders onto the desk for Rukia to pick up. The black-haired woman opened the first one and began to read.

There was silence in the room for a while as Barragan busied himself with paperwork and Rukia quietly turned page after page in the folders.

Finally, she looked up at the old man. "All right. I agree. This student," she said, gesturing at one of the folders, "seems to be a good possibility. But…" she hesitated. "How well do you know him? Is he trustworthy?"

Barragan scowled. "How should I know? He's a good student, that's all I can tell you. I think he's reliable and he doesn't appear to have any gang connections. That's it."

Rukia glanced back at Barragan, hesitating. "Well," she said, "at this point, I guess it's time to take some action." She looked up at him. "Go ahead and bring him back in." She flipped open the folder. "What's his name again? Sousuke Aizen?"

XxXxXxX

Aizen sat in the chair across from the principal's desk, listening quietly as Barragan explained the situation, and Rukia studied him. He was certainly unprepossessing. She wouldn't have given him a second glance in her operation. He looked every bit the ineffectual nerd that Barragan said he was. The thick black glasses obscuring his eyes made it clear he had no fashion sense, and the messy brown bangs that flopped over his face showed that he didn't have money for a haircut. Rukia dismissed him. Barragan's star pupil or not, the kid was unlikely to find out anything useful.

But if he could at least keep his mouth shut, it couldn't hurt to have him on the case. He did have the advantage of already being an intern at Hirako Pharmaceuticals. You never knew. He just might hear the odd bit of information that could help her. And heaven knew they certainly needed help. They needed a break in this case soon, or Ukitake would have to pull her off it. They were already running over budget, and Ukitake had let her know she had to show results soon or the mayor was going to ask how they justified the funds the police department was spending.

Aizen glanced up at them, his face reflecting mild puzzlement. "Your pardon, Principal Barragan," he said softly, "but I don't see how I can help in this investigation. I'm a very low-level employee at Hirako Pharmaceuticals and usually don't even see the principals. I know nothing about gangs or drugs. None of my friends are into that kind of thing."

"But surely you've heard of Hueco Mundo," Rukia said.

Aizen spread his hands helplessly. "Well, of course. Everyone in the school has. That doesn't mean I know who's a member or what their activities are."

"Well," Barragan said in a falsely jovial tone of voice that made Rukia's teeth ache, "you never know when you might overhear the odd scrap of conversation at work, note some activity between two kids you've maybe suspected. All we're asking is that you keep your ear to the ground and let us know if you do hear anything."

"I can certainly do that," the brown-haired senior said with a slight shrug. "I don't know if it'll help you but I'm happy to do my best."

Barragan moved around the desk to clap Aizen on the back. "That's all we're asking for, my boy, just the best you can give us."

XxXxXxX

Aizen sat across the desk from Rukia, obediently looking over the photographs she had brought. The first picture was of a slight man with a toothy grin and blond hair down to his waist. He was wearing a white lab coat over a black shirt and tie.

"This is Shinji Hirako, the owner of the company," Aizen said in his quiet voice. "Hirako-san used to be a scientist, but now he's mostly an administrator."

Rukia frowned. "Is it true that he claims to be a former hippie?"

Aizen nodded. "He makes no secret of his past. When he was in school, he dabbled in many different drugs, what he calls psychoactives." He looked up at the black-haired woman sitting across the desk from him. "I'd say he led kind of a dissipated life. But now he seems to have settled down. Although," he mused, "he's easily distractible and sometimes appears confused." He shrugged. "Maybe a bit of brain damage from all the psychedelics there."

Rukia made a note on a pad of paper.

He picked up the next photograph. It showed a tall, light-skinned man with messy pale hair and gray eyes. "You've gotten a picture of him without his hat." He smiled at Rukia, the light glinting off his glasses. "Kisuke Urahara is the chief scientist at the company. He's a bit of a character as well. He wears a black lab coat instead of the white ones everybody else in the company wears, plus he's always wearing these wooden sandals into the lab, and Hirako has to chastise him for wearing open-toed shoes while handling chemicals." He glanced at Rukia. "Urahara appears to have a rather cavalier attitude toward safety. He often makes fun of the safety rules we're supposed to follow in the lab."

"Hmmm," Rukia said. "Do you think either of them could be synthesizing illegal chemicals?"

Aizen looked back at the pictures. "Well, I've never seen anything to indicate that they might be. But then I don't have access to many of the secured areas of the lab."

He looked at Rukia, and she saw how sharp his eyes were behind his glasses. "You think they're behind the synthesis of Breakdown." It was a statement, not a question, although Rukia hadn't said anything about the purpose of their mission to Karakura High. She had to admit the kid was intelligent.

"I can't comment on an ongoing investigation," she said. "Now, how often do you work and what do you do?"

He smiled at her non-answer. "I work there part-time after school, three days a week. Basically I assist with various low-level tasks in the lab; I wash the glassware, run the centrifuges, things like that."

Rukia scratched her cheek absently as she looked at her notepad. "I saw that you were listed as an author on a paper written by Hirako and Urahara last year."

"Yes." Aizen nodded. "They added me because I made a few small contributions to the research."

"What was the paper about?"

"Neurotransmitter potentials in neural synapses and various chemical means of modifying those potentials," Aizen said.

"Which means what?" Rukia said, shaking her head.

Aizen shrugged. "Nothing really. It's just another bit of incremental research on chemicals found in the human brain."

"So it's not important work, nor could it be connected with the synthesis of a chemical like Breakdown?"

Aizen looked straight at her, his face neutral. "No. It couldn't."

XxXxXxX

It was late and Danzoumaru was tired. The big man yawned and shuffled his feet under the desk. Night shift at the security gate to Hirako Pharmaceuticals was unbelievably boring. Still, he would do his job. He scanned the bank of video monitors at his station one more time, checking for activity. Still nothing.

Then the glass front doors of the building slid open and Danzoumaru came to attention. His beady eyes under his bushy white eyebrows glanced at the verification unit on his desk, and then returned to the opening doors. At the ID on the unit, he had stiffened imperceptibly.

A tall, brown-haired young man with thick glasses had entered. His ID badge on his chest bore the color code for company student interns.

The guard came to attention. "Good evening, Aizen-san," he said, bowing his head.

With a mild smile on his face, Aizen nodded to the gate guard. "Good evening, Danzoumaru-san," he said politely. He walked past the guard and into the central hallway of the building.

After he went, Danzoumaru stared after him briefly, his heart pounding. Then he looked down at the bank of monitors and carefully rewound the video to delete the last few minutes that recorded Aizen's entrance. Then he moved in the swivel chair to one of the computers where the security program that stored all entries to the building was located. Carefully, his big fingers clumsy on the keyboard, he typed in a sequence of keys that would erase the last ID verification. Then he painstakingly checked his work a second time, making sure everything was done correctly. Finally, verifying that Aizen's entry to the building had been completely removed, he leaned back with a heavy sigh.

He stared up at the clock, his heart thumping heavily in his chest. The worst nightmare of his life had begun only a few months ago. The mild-looking student intern had come up to him one evening and they had chatted about nothing in particular. They had spoken again a few times, and one night Aizen had invited him out for a beer after work.

He had perhaps had a bit too much to drink that night. But in any event, he had found himself sitting in the bar down the street in a booth with the young intern, telling Aizen all about his wife and baby son, about studying for the high school equivalency test so he could go on to college, get a degree and hopefully a better-paying job so he could better support his family.

As the evening wore on, Aizen had listened intently to his woes, his face full of sympathy and concern, his dark brown eyes warm behind his glasses.

"Have you ever considered taking on a second job? That could help you take care of your family right now," he asked softly as Danzoumaru finished another beer. He belched in satisfaction, thumping the mug down on the scarred table.

"Humph. Who would hire me?" The big man shrugged. "I don't have a degree. I don't really have any skills."

"I can think of a job for which you're perfectly suited," the youth murmured with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Yeah? What?"

"I have a task that I need some help with. And it doesn't require a degree." Aizen met his eyes. "All I need is someone discreet and absolutely trustworthy."

So it had begun. At first, it had been fairly simple. Aizen had paid him cash to ignore certain of his late night entrances. Danzoumaru had been nervous, but Aizen had explained that he was working hard on a project; however, as a student, he wasn't allowed to work overtime, and he really needed to spend the extra hours in the lab without anyone knowing. That had seemed innocuous enough.

But then he had begun to bring in non-employees to the lab at night, and asked for more of the security codes. Danzoumaru had balked at that. Aizen had merely shrugged and said, "Why don't you think about it?" in his mild voice.

But that morning, after he went home, he found that his wife and son were out. She had left a note saying she'd gotten an emergency call from a friend. While he was reading it, he heard someone clearing his throat.

He looked up in shock to see a couple of tough-looking guys, one with blue hair and the second with scraggly long black hair, standing at his kitchen counter. They both were pointing guns at him.

Slowly, he raised his hands in the air. "What do you want?" he asked, narrowing his eyes with belligerence, yet still moving slowly and carefully.

The blue-haired youth grinned. "Oh, just to talk with you, Danzoumaru." He gestured with the gun at the door into the living room. "Why don't we sit down and have a chat?"

Danzoumaru's heart clenched. "Where's my wife and baby?" he demanded as he moved ahead of them into the living room. The blue-haired man gestured at the couch and indicated he should sit down. He did, glaring up at the two.

The black-haired man spoke. "Oh, they're perfectly safe… for now." He leered at Danzoumaru, his lips twisted in a sadistic grin.

"And they'll stay that way… as long as you cooperate." The blue-haired man smirked as he put his gun away. "Here are the terms."

The two had explained that Danzoumaru was to comply with whatever Aizen asked of him. He would receive regular payments in his bank account, but he was not to speak of the arrangement to a soul. If he failed, the consequences would be dire. The big man had glared, but had seen no way out. He had agreed to the arrangement, thinking he could try to figure out how to escape later.

As the two turned to go, Danzoumaru had said, "Wait." The blue-haired man raised his eyebrows in a question. "Who are you guys? What do you really want?"

The blue-haired man grinned. "Have you ever heard of Hueco Mundo?" They both laughed as Danzoumaru blanched. They walked away, still snickering, as Danzoumaru sat down heavily and stared at the wall, shoulders slumping in despair. He realized at that moment that there would be no escape for him.

XxXxXxX

Aware of but unconcerned about the stresses of the night guard behind him, Aizen walked down the long, white main corridor and into the synthesis lab. He pulled a lab coat off one of the hooks at the door and put it on. Looking at the clock, he saw it read 1:30am. He would have to work quickly, for he had a long night of labor ahead of him.

He went straight to the computer and typed in the user name, "shinji." When it prompted him for the password, he smirked and typed in a few keystrokes. The system welcomed him in. He began rapidly scrolling through various directories, occasionally stopping to cut and paste a file name into another window. He typed in a few more commands, then opened an editing window and pulled up a shell script from one of his own directories. He quickly keyed in several file names, and then set the script running.

Leaning back, he watched with satisfaction as his program ran and text flashed on the screen. The system-level script continued with its work, inserting some files, deleting others, and adjusting the modification times on all of them so that several timestamps were set back by a few months.

He paused briefly as he came to a directory containing drafts of the paper Rukia had mentioned earlier in the day. His eyes narrowed. The research for that paper had been performed almost entirely by him. Urahara had mentored him, teaching him some of the required processes and syntheses for the research. But Hirako had done nothing.

Still, when it came time to get it published, Urahara had insisted that they put Hirako's name first as the owner of the company, then Urahara's as the senior scientist. Aizen shrugged. If he were the type of person who cared about fairness, he would have objected. However, it didn't matter to him. And indeed, it turned out to serve his purposes for no one to know of his hand in the work. The paper did indeed have a connection to Breakdown. His lips twisted. That cop, Rukia Kuchiki, was too stupid to understand the chemistry. But the chemicals synthesized for that piece of research were precursors to that of Breakdown. After the original work had been completed, it had been Urahara who had gone on to develop Breakdown itself. He had to admit the man was brilliant; perhaps the only man Aizen had met who he felt exceeded him in intellectual capability. He never minded giving credit where it was due.

But Urahara had quickly realized the addictive potential of Breakdown, and had destroyed the samples he had synthesized, deleted the files containing the formula, and even burned his paper notes and lab notebook. But ideas, once developed, could be hard to destroy. Aizen lidded his eyes and a small smile of satisfaction appeared on his face. He had instantly seen the potential of the chemical and had secretly stolen the formula shortly after Urahara had developed it.

Now Aizen was forging a paper trail on the computer, regenerating the Breakdown files in Urahara's directories, and creating a set of false emails between Urahara and Hirako, linking the two in an apparent conspiracy.

Aizen's eyes gleamed with contentment as he worked. The lab was sloppy; security was lax and there were frequent safety violations. Everything he was doing would fit in quite well with the general slipshod nature of the work at Hirako Pharmaceuticals.

He shook his head. When he had first come to the lab, when he was still naïve enough to be excited about the chance to work in a real commercial lab, he had actually tried to improve their procedures, introduce some discipline into the company. He still remembered being called into Hirako's office and chewed out.

Hirako had started out with a false, condescending geniality. "What's most important here is avoiding regulatory attention, my boy." He had rapidly descended into chastising the youth for making waves and trying to criticize his betters. Aizen had shut his mouth and withdrawn into his meek nerd persona.

But now… soon both Urahara and Hirako would be going down. Aizen smiled with anticipation. Now all he would have to do is arrange that they would somehow know it was he who had brought them down.

XxXxXxX

Aizen sauntered toward one of the back entrances to the school in the nippy early morning air. He had just created a rather elegant frame and he was pleased. Now to turn his attention to other elements of his endeavors. He saw the blue-haired youth waiting for him at the corner, exactly where he had told him to wait, and nodded. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, waiting for a text from Kaname that would tell him everything was in position.

When it arrived he moved forward. Grimmjow was looking more awkward than usual, but he stepped forward on cue.

"Hey, S-Sousuke."

Aizen was amused to note that Grimmjow almost couldn't get his first name out. "Yes, Grimmjow."

"I was wondering if you thought you'd have everything ready by tonight." Grimmjow's words sounded stilted, but that didn't matter. It was the content that counted.

"Don't worry about it, Grimmjow. It's all taken care of." Aizen's voice was clear and carried in the cold, still winter air.

Grimmjow scowled but didn't miss his final line. "Good. Don't forget the meeting after school today." With that, the blue-haired youth moved off as scripted, leaving Aizen alone in the quiet passage. Hiding his smile, he looked down at his cell phone and began assiduously texting, waiting to see if the person standing around the corner would continue walking forward. He estimated the chances of that happening at about fifteen percent; nevertheless, he waited just in case that was the scenario that was to play out now. It always paid to be prepared even for the low-probability outcomes, and to have a contingency plan ready for them.

When nothing happened after a few minutes, he slid his phone back in his pocket and went off to class, a quiet smile on his face.

XxXxXxX

Orihime opened the door and saw Aizen standing in the hall. Her face paled suddenly. He had come over to her apartment after dinner, as had become their habit, with him having a standing invitation. But he had never seen her so shaken before.

"What's wrong?" he asked with concern, entering the apartment and closing the door behind him. He reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. His face was composed, with just a hint of worry for her visible in his expression.

Orihime stood frozen in front of him. "You're a member, aren't you?" she whispered.

His eyes went wide and surprised. "A member?"

A wave of furious anger coursed up in her. "Don't lie to me again! You're a member of that gang, Hueco Mundo! I saw you talking with them. I heard what you said to them!" She took a step forward and faced him, standing almost toe to toe with him, fists clenched. "Don't lie to me!"

"Orihime," he said softly, "I've never lied to you. Will you calm down and let me explain?"

She shook her head as furious tears started to leak from the corners of her eyes. "Explain? What is there to explain?"

Aizen took her in his arms and gently kissed her forehead. "Please, Orihime. All I'm asking for is a hearing. Just give me that chance, please?" He held her at arms' length and gazed at her, his deep brown eyes intense and filled with pain.

She felt herself beginning to melt and angrily looked away. He always could get to her, it seemed… she would be undone if she looked in his eyes.

"Please… look at me, Orihime?" As though her head were controlled by someone other than herself, she slowly moved to face Aizen. Her gaze was caught and held by his sorrowful eyes.

Suddenly, she began crying, her anger spent, leaving nothing but sadness in its wake. Aizen hugged her close in his warm arms, gently stroking her hair, letting her cry into his shirt. After her sobs began to slow, he handed her a tissue and waited while she finished blowing her nose and getting herself under control.

Then he picked her up and sat down in her ratty old armchair with her on his lap. "Now," he asked in his soft, polite voice, "are you willing to listen to me?"

She didn't trust herself to speak, so she nodded.

"If you'll remember, I never said that I wasn't a gang member when we talked earlier. I may have evaded your questions, but I never lied to you directly." He brushed the strand of hair out of her eyes again. "I apologize for misleading you, however." He took a deep breath and his voice became sad. "It was a terrible mistake, and I hope the price I have to pay isn't the loss of your trust." His arms tightened around her. "But you see… I was just so afraid I would lose you if you knew… and I couldn't bear that."

"You should have trusted me enough to tell me," Orihime said.

His eyes dropped. "But Hueco Mundo has such a bad reputation. Would you really have been interested in me if you knew?"

She was angry now. "Don't you trust that my love for you is strong enough?"

He looked back at her, directly in her eyes, challenging. "Is it really? Can you love a gang member?"

Now it was Orihime's turn to drop her eyes. "I love _you_. Not the groups you're in."

Aizen's face filled with hope at her first three words. "Let me tell you why I joined, and maybe you'll understand then."

She nodded grudgingly.

He sighed and looked off into the distance. "You probably know that I come from a very poor family. I don't like to talk about it much, and I'm not going to tell you about my family life because it would upset you. But let's just say that there is no money for clothes or books, and barely enough for housing and food. Sometimes not even that." He paused and studied her upturned face. She was quiet now, listening. "I've never had enough to eat or wear that I haven't managed to steal or beg from somewhere else. My… guardian wouldn't even fill out the paperwork to get help for me from the state."

His voice turned bitter. "I started out trying to do everything legally. I tried to find a job. Even when I was twelve years old, there are many jobs I could have done as well or better as any adult. But everywhere I was stymied by laws." His arms clenched around her. "They said I was too young to work." He looked at her bitterly. "I told you when we first met, didn't I? Teenagers are second-class citizens. We don't have the basic rights that convicted criminals have."

"But—" Orihime tried to interrupt, but he was looking off into the distance now, a flush of humiliation on his cheeks.

"Imagine how I felt when they wouldn't let me register for high school classes because I hadn't paid the fee for a lost textbook that someone had stolen from me. It was twenty dollars. Twenty dollars." His voice rose. "The only way out of poverty in this country is education, Orihime, and they were taking that away from me too."

"Couldn't you— wasn't there anyone who could help you?" Orihime asked in a small voice.

He looked at her again, his lips twisted in a snarl. "Help me? You know how many students are assigned to each counselor at our school, don't you? Three hundred. Even if they really cared, which they don't actually, since the salaries are so low that they're always looking for a better job, that's just too many students to handle in 40 hours a week." His voice became bitter again. "They always claim there's plenty of help for the poor in this country, but that's only if you have an adult willing to work the system for you."

She could feel his heart beating rapidly against her body. He took a deep breath, calming himself again. "Anyway," he continued, once more in a soft and calm voice, "I was fourteen and had just entered this high school, but I was already taking the advanced organic chemistry class. I really enjoyed the synthesis of compounds in the lab. I would stay in the lab after school and work on independent projects." He paused and sighed.

"Well, one day, one of the seniors approached me with a proposition. It seemed he had heard of my prowess in chemical synthesis. And yes," he said, looking directly into Orihime's eyes, "he was from Hueco Mundo."

She sucked in her breath abruptly.

Aizen said with a sigh, "They offered me a job, purifying certain chemicals for them." He continued, "The money was more than I'd ever seen or even heard of before." He gave a deep sigh. "I didn't want to get involved with a group with as bad a reputation as Hueco Mundo, so I did a bit of research on them before I accepted."

He turned Orihime around on his lap so that she was facing him fully. "It turned out that a lot of the stories going around about them were just that: stories. They wanted to build up a scary reputation, so they themselves made up many of the rumors. Here's the truth: Hueco Mundo doesn't really kill or torture anyone; they're simply a local drug distributor. And they don't even handle the hard stuff; most of their income comes from marijuana. A drug that's less dangerous than tobacco or alcohol." He looked intently at Orihime. "Selling drugs is a victimless crime, Orihime. People want weed, so they pay distributors to get it for them. No one is hurt, unless the police find out."

Orihime was shaking her head, "But what about all the violence around drugs, all the gang violence?"

"I won't say that doesn't happen," Aizen continued in his soft, reasonable voice. "But it doesn't happen here in Hueco Mundo. They just spread the rumors that it does to scare people and keep them in line."

"Do you really know all that's going on in Hueco Mundo? How do you know they're not lying to you?" Orihime asked.

"Well," he admitted, "I don't know that for sure. I do know I've never seen anything that goes against my moral standards."

"I mean," she said, "those things they say about their leader, the 'Captain'. They're just awful!" A thought occurred to her and her eyes widened. "Do you know who he is?"

Aizen set his mouth firmly. "Yes, I do… but I'm not going to tell you, Orihime. Although you may not believe it, I have my principles… and I don't break them. And I will say that he's not as bad as the rumors might indicate."

Another thought struck her and she drew away from Aizen in fear. "You're not— you're not one of those— 'Espada', are you?"

He drew her back in and held her reassuringly. "No. No, I promise you, Orihime, I am not one of the Espada." He pressed her head to his chest and stroked her hair. "So can you find it within you to forgive me, Orihime?"

"I— I don't know," she mumbled with her face pressed into his shirt. "Are you really sure they're not as bad as everyone says?"

"I'm absolutely certain," he said with conviction in his warm, deep voice. "And what's more, I'm applying to colleges this fall; I'm hoping to get a scholarship to a good university, and when I do, I'm leaving all this behind me." He took her head in both hands and held her out again, looking into her eyes with sincerity shining in his. "In just a few more months, I'm going to turn over a new leaf and start a respectable life. I hope I can make you proud of me, Orihime…" He kissed her gently and felt her relax into him.

A smile touched his lips. He bent his head so she couldn't see and began kissing her along her jawline and down her neck. He pressed his body into hers and felt her respond. She twined her arms around his shoulders and lifted her mouth to meet his. As they kissed, longer and deeper, he stood up, still holding her, and took her into the next room and gently lowered her down on the bed.

Sometime later, when he stood naked before her just before joining her under the bedcovers, Orihime gave a quick scan of his body and was relieved to find no tattoos. A final knot inside her dissolved. So he had been telling the truth, and was not one of the Espada. She sighed in relief.

She was still upset that he was a gang member, and that he had hidden it from her. But… she could see how it could have happened… and he had promised he was going to quit… And what else could she do, she wondered as they pressed their bodies together under the covers. She loved him. She could never resist him.

What choice did she really have?


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**A/N:** This chapter contains sections from the Turn Back the Pendulum arc, with references to chapter -108.

(Originally posted 3/15/2011.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime let out a long, distressed exhalation and put a finger to her mouth again. Curled up on her couch with her laptop, she read the half-finished essay again and sighed. It sounded dull and pedestrian. How was she ever going to get into a good college if she couldn't even string together a coherent essay? All her ideas to respond to the prompts sounded so trivial. Yet, she didn't want to get into the depths of her family difficulties, not in a college essay that strangers would read.

"What's wrong?" Warm arms slid around her from behind and a deep voice murmured in her ear, "Is it not going well?"

She twisted her neck and smiled up at the brown-haired youth, gazing down at her with his thick bangs falling over his glasses, half-hiding his expressive eyes, a subtle smile curling his lips. She relaxed into his embrace, one hand coming up to stroke his slender forearm, and slid her fingers into his long and elegant ones. She felt a faint thrill coursing through her body. His touch never failed to excite her.

But she resolutely pushed the feelings away. They both had a lot of work to do tonight. Aizen had been working on his laptop at the other end of the room. They had gotten in the habit of spending evenings together in her apartment three or four nights a week, and she was amazed at how comforting it was to share a peaceful evening and a bed with someone. She missed him terribly on the nights he slept elsewhere. Just hanging out, doing homework together… she had never before realized how satisfying such quiet times could be.

"Oh, I just can't seem to get this essay to sound right." She frowned at the screen. "It just sounds boring. I wonder if I'll even get accepted to any of the colleges I want."

He moved around the couch, sat down so that his hip pressed against hers, and put an arm around her. "Let me see."

She moved the laptop away from him. "No. It's too embarrassing."

He looked at her appraisingly, a playful light entering his eyes. "I could help you with it."

"No." She frowned at him. "It's supposed to be my own work."

He leaned back and gave her a knowing smile. "You surely don't think all those rich kids with admissions counselors take that seriously?"

"Sousuke, please don't get started on that." She turned back to the essay with a grimace. "You know it's important to me to play by the rules."

"But Orihime, you're deliberately putting yourself at a disadvantage. I've shown you the statistics about legacy preferences and other advantages for the rich at the Ivy League schools, haven't I?" He stroked her hair, brushed his lips against her cheek. "It's well documented that alumni preferences exist. If you give a large enough donation to Yale, you get in automatically. If you're on the polo team, a sport that caters only to the rich, you can get in to Harvard as an athlete, even if your grades and test scores are less than stellar. Despite the lies the college admissions officers tell, there is a systematic bias in this country to only open the gates at the highest levels to those who are already in the elite. There have been many articles and books about this; I'm not making it up." His voice was mild and persuasive again, but tinged with passion underneath.

Orihime took a deep breath. "Yes, I know you've told me all this; I did read that book you gave me, _The Price of Admission_, and I do believe you, Sousuke." She turned her head and fixed her eyes on his sincere, deep brown eyes. "But I just wouldn't feel right if I got in to a college by using any of the tricks you've told me about."

His eyes were sad now. "Don't you want to go to college with me, then, Orihime?"

She tightened her lips. "Of course I want to go with you! I just want to get in fair and square."

"But Orihime. Don't you understand that there is no 'fair and square'"? If you don't play the game, you simply won't get in." He took both her hands in his, drew one to his lips and kissed it. "I'll miss you if you don't come with me."

She drew her hand away, disturbed. She knew that he planned on getting into Harvard, and had already submitted his early-action application there, ahead of all the rest of their classmates who were still struggling to write their college applications. He would be hearing from the Ivy League school by the middle of December, but he seemed to be confident that he would fall into the slim eight percent of applicants who were admitted to the most elite school in the United States.

Worse, he had hinted that he had somehow done something to make certain that he would be admitted, and that he could do the same for her. What disturbed her most was that she was tempted. She knew that a good college education was the only way out of poverty for her, the only way she could achieve her dreams of becoming a scientist, and that she would need basically a full scholarship to attend. Her relatives had told her there was no money for college and that it would be best for her to get a job after high school. Although she enjoyed her part-time job at the bakery, she shuddered at the thought of working there for the rest of her life. She had all these big dreams about biochemistry and actually putting her ideas into practice… and it was incredibly depressing to think that those doors might be closed off from her forever… simply because she didn't come from a family that had enough money to send her to a top college.

She firmed her lips. Ever since Sousuke had admitted to her that he was a gang member, that he was taking money for some sort of work involving synthesizing illegal drugs, he had been letting slip all these hints about various other illegal operations he was involved in. He seemed to enjoy flouting the rules. She wondered if it had been a mistake for her to tell him that she accepted him even as a gang member. Maybe she should have given him an ultimatum instead: her or the gang. She sighed. That just wasn't her style, though.

Aizen claimed he would give up all his gang activities after he started college, but she wondered if he was telling the truth. He clearly enjoyed the money he received from his illegal pursuits, and a college undergraduate was not in a position to earn a large salary. She knew he loved her, but did he love her enough to give up his criminal ways? She had been trying to get him to move toward the right side of the law, to have some respect for authority, for ethics. But although he would always listen carefully to her at first, soon his eyes would start dancing behind his glasses, that wicked smile would appear on his lips, and he would come up with a very reasonable argument as to why she was wrong.

She sighed again. She was worried that she too might start to lose her ethical compass, if she spent much more time in Sousuke's company.

And yet… she loved him still. She glanced at his perfectly etched profile, his aquiline nose, those full lips shaped by an artistic god. He was beautiful, charming, attentive and considerate… everything she had always dreamed of in a man. She could see his love and concern for her in his warm, deep brown eyes, in his day-to-day actions, the way he made time for her in his busy life, the way he listened to her like no one else had ever listened, the hundreds of romantic little gestures he made for her…

But as she got to know him more, saw more of the man beneath the good-citizen straight-A student image he projected, she was realizing that much of him was an illusion. He lied easily, well, and frequently. He was a charming and convincing actor. It had begun to bother her immensely that she couldn't tell Tatsuki and Chizuru the full truth about Aizen. She found herself lying to her own best friends whenever they asked about his activities, and it was tying her stomach in knots. All of Aizen's so-called charitable activities were a smokescreen. He wasn't spending the afternoons tutoring disadvantaged kids or helping build houses for the homeless; instead, he was secretly meeting with the gang in the basement of Karakura High, arranging who knows what kind of illicit goings-on.

When she saw that so much of him was a lie, it made a niggling worm of doubt crawl in her stomach; it made her wonder how much of what he told her was a lie. How much of what he said was his love for her was a lie.

And yet… he spent a great deal of time with her, appeared to spend a great deal of time thinking about her when he wasn't with her. It surely couldn't be all a lie. Surely he wouldn't pretend to love her just for sex, when there must have been a dozen girls in his gang who would have given him anything he wanted. She hadn't missed the daggers in the glances that girl Loly had sent her way, now that it was known within Hueco Mundo that she was with Aizen.

So he must surely love her, she told herself… and wondered desperately if she was rationalizing.

But one thing was for certain. His ethics… left much to be desired. He enjoyed breaking the law and societal moral codes. It made him feel that he was putting something over on all those people who had more than him. He hated with a passion the fact that he was a mere high school student, and a dirt-poor one at that. He craved status and power, and would do anything to get what he wanted.

Now he wanted her. But did she want to become merely another acquisition?

She turned back to him. "I'll apply to Harvard, and to other Ivy League schools, even though I don't think I have much of a chance to get in. But I don't want to go there, really. You know I want to go to MIT, to study biochemistry." She admired the work of one of the professors in the biochemistry department at MIT and dreamed of working in his lab. She thought he was doing work that could change the world for the better, and she wanted to learn more. But it was so difficult to get in to MIT.

Aizen sighed. "Well, of course I would rather if you came to Harvard with me." He smiled. "But MIT isn't so far away. We could get an apartment together." His eyes were eager now, his thick, dark lashes ringing those fervent brown eyes.

She lowered her gaze, unable to meet his. "If I get in, we can think about it."

His hand crept around hers. "You could live with me even if you didn't get in. I'd be happy to pay for an apartment for both of us. I have enough money to support both of us, Orihime."

She looked back up at him, at his sincere, beautiful eyes. There was a hint of pleading in them now. Could she be happy, just living with him, living off his ill-gotten gains, doing nothing? She shook her head. "I love you, Sousuke, but I need to be in school. Working is really important to me. I don't just want to be your appendage."

He gathered her hand in his warmth and smiled brilliantly. "Of course, and that's why I love you so much, Orihime. You have brains and you want to use them. I would never choose a purely decorative partner." He caressed her hand, a possessive glint appearing in his eyes.

"But you have to let me help you. Just to even the playing field, nothing more," he said, his voice coaxing. "I promise you I will never do anything to give you an unfair advantage."

She gave a long, long sigh. Then she pulled away from him. "No. Sousuke, I don't want you doing anything. And I don't even want to know what some of those things are that you're suggesting you can do."

A look of mischief appeared on his face. "Are you sure you don't want to know?" he teased, a wicked sparkle in his eyes.

"Yes," she said with a firm set to her jaw. "I'm positive."

He lowered his gaze with a faint smirk. "I'll remember that you said that, Orihime," he said.

She glared at him, suspicious. "And by that I didn't mean that I wanted you to do something and not tell me. Promise me you won't do anything to help me, even to 'level the playing field' as you say. Promise," she insisted.

He sighed and took her hand again. "I promise, Orihime."

XxXxXxX

Rukia fell into step with Ichigo as he was walking home from school. His hands were stuffed in his pockets against the cold, and he wore a grim look on his face with deep circles under his eyes.

"Hey," Rukia said.

He gave her a sidelong glance but did not change his expression. "Hey."

"You look like things aren't going so well," she said sympathetically.

He grimaced. "That's putting it mildly. The clinic's been swamped with overdose cases lately. I've been up late every night this past week helping out my dad on the night shift." _Plus_, he wanted to add but didn't, _the girl I love is dating someone dangerous and she won't listen to me._

Rukia looked at him speculatively as they trudged along side by side. All her instincts were telling her that despite Ichigo's history of delinquency, he was not a gang member. She prided herself on her judgment of people, and her intuition told her this kid had a good heart. His father was a doctor at the clinic, and he obviously cared about the suffering of others. She just couldn't see Ichigo being involved in the manufacture or sale of Breakdown.

Of course, she knew, intuition could be wrong. Criminals could be good actors. That was why she usually relied on her training. But for now… she decided to take a leap of faith. They had reached too many dead ends. She had already decided it was time to take a few selected students into her confidence. Ichigo looked like a good choice.

"Ichigo," she said. "Do you really want to help stop the spread of Breakdown?"

XxXxXxX

Orihime slammed her locker shut with annoyance. It had been a rough day with far too many tests in too many subjects today. She glanced out the window at the end of the hall. It was sleeting and gray, and she groaned inwardly at the thought of the windy, cold walk to her apartment ahead. She whirled away from the wall and abruptly stopped herself from banging into someone who had been standing right behind her.

"Oh! Sorry—" she began, and then recognized the student. "Sousuke! What did you mean, standing right behind me like that?" She put her hands on her hips and frowned at him, still irritated. "I could have smashed right into you."

He only gave her a slow, lazy smile, lashes lowered beneath his glasses. He moved forward, placing one arm against the wall by her face, and brought his lips to her ear. "I have a present for you, Orihime," he whispered.

Her annoyance began to fade, even as she felt the warmth of his body brushing hers. He always had that effect on her; always seemed to be able to change her moods. Today, she knew, he had an appointment after school, so she wouldn't see him again until the evening. She looked up at him, a question in her eyes.

He had one hand behind his back, and on his face was a huge grin. With a flourish he brought his hand out from behind his back. In it were a bouquet of hothouse lilies, waxy and white with deep red throats, and a small box.

She looked at the gifts in surprise. "But— what's the occasion, Sousuke?" She was puzzled. It was early December; her birthday was long past, and it was too early for Christmas.

He laughed. "Do I need an occasion to give the love of my life a present?" Then he sobered. "It's the two-month anniversary of our first date tomorrow, Orihime." He brushed his lips against the top of her head, combed his fingers through her long, thick hair.

She blushed, holding the box. "I'm sorry— I didn't get you anything, Sousuke," she apologized.

"Never mind," he murmured. "I didn't want you to. Why don't you open it?"

"Right here?" she asked in surprise.

"All right." With a laugh, he bent down suddenly, slipped one arm around her and scooped her up. She stiffened and squeaked as he held her against his body and started walking down the hall. Halfway down he stopped and pushed open one of the classroom doors with his shoulder. He carried her inside the empty classroom and set her gently down on a chair. He took her face between his palms and kissed her long and thoroughly.

She finally pulled back, gasping, her eyes wide. His eyes were lidded as he drew back from her, satisfaction and pleasure roiling in their depths. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards and he licked his lips. "Open it," he commanded.

Obediently, Orihime laid the lilies on the desk and began to open the wrapped package, tearing off the paper until she held the open box in her hands. She removed the tissue paper to reveal a long envelope inside. Puzzled, she looked up at Aizen, who smiled with encouragement.

She tore open the envelope to find a glossy brochure and a printed cardboard slip. She looked at them in bewilderment, then back to Aizen.

"What— what is this?" she asked, turning the brochure over. "Vacation resort on the Big Island of Hawaii?"

He laughed at the baffled expression on her face. "I'm taking you on a Hawaiian vacation, Orihime."

"Uh," she stammered, "wh- what do you mean? When?"

"This weekend," he said with a smile. "Do you like your present?"

"Uh…" she said, "Don't we have school?"

He reached one finger to her cheek, stroked it gently. "You'll only have to miss one day. We'll leave Thursday night and return Sunday night. First class airline tickets. That'll give us three full days in a warm and sunny paradise. We'll get away from all this dark and cold." He moved closer to her. "What do you think?" he whispered huskily.

Orihime didn't know what to say. "It sounds wonderful…" she said somewhat doubtfully, "but you know I've never been on an airplane before."

Aizen's eyes widened briefly, and then he bent his head to hers. "Oh… you are going to _love_ it then…"

XxXxXxX

Orihime clutched the envelope and the lilies to her chest as she ran down the stairs to the front entrance of the school, her mind whirling. Aizen was always throwing her off-balance recently. It was as though he now thought it no longer mattered if he showed her his darker side. And this extravagant gift! She had never heard of such a thing. Going to Hawaii for a _weekend_? Traveling so far away for a vacation had always been something she never even considered, because it was so far out of her reach. Going for merely a weekend seemed hopelessly excessive.

She had thought it was romantic that Aizen wanted to give her a gift to celebrate their two-month anniversary. But the scale of the thing terrified her.

Just how much money did Aizen have? she wondered. He had already admitted that it was the financial gain that had tempted him into gang membership. She had assumed that it explained some of his previous spending behavior around her. But this took it to a whole new level. Spending a couple of hundred dollars in a week on fancy dinners did indicate that he wasn't really poor.

But a vacation like this must surely cost _thousands_ of dollars. How much was Hueco Mundo paying him? The implications made her shiver. The thought of a large amount of money being involved in Aizen's illegal activities made them seem somehow more significant.

"Hey!" The black-haired girl had stepped into Orihime's path so quickly she had almost bumped into her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh!" cried Orihime, "I'm so sorry, Tatsuki! I didn't see you." She laughed nervously.

"Yeah," said Tatsuki, hands on her hips. "What's been up with you lately, Orihime? We haven't even seen you either, much."

Chizuru came up behind her, frowning as well. "Yeah, Orihime, we've missed you."

"Eheheh," she said, laughing again. "I've been in school every day. What's to miss?"

"But you're always eating lunch alone with Aizen these days and neglecting your friends," Tatsuki scolded.

Orihime blushed. "I'm sorry… we're both so busy with school it seems that there isn't really that much time to spend together."

Tatsuki scrutinized Orihime's face. "Orihime, what's wrong? You look like you're terribly worried about something." Her sharp eyes fell on the lilies Orihime was carrying. "And what's this with flowers? What's going on?"

"Oh," Orihime said, lifting up the bouquet and gazing at it as though puzzled, "Sousuke gave me the flowers for our two-month anniversary."

Both girls grinned widely at that. "Aww, that's so sweet," said Tatsuki. "He's so romantic, isn't he?"

"But what's wrong, Orihime?" pressed Chizuru. "You do look awfully worried."

Orihime stared at them blankly. What could she say? Aizen had warned her of the importance of keeping his membership in Hueco Mundo a secret. Obviously she couldn't tell them that he had invited her on a wildly extravagant vacation. But she could certainly tell them that he wanted to go away with her for the weekend. As a matter of fact, she had to let them know, or they would be wondering where she was over the weekend, and worrying about her.

She bit her lip, and her eyes shifted back and forth. "Eh…" she began, "Sousuke invited me to go away over the weekend, and I'm a bit nervous about that." She could let them draw the obvious conclusion.

"But why?" Chizuru demanded. She lowered her voice. "Going away for the weekend sounds fun! I mean, you've already told us you're sleeping with him, so it's not like you're worried about losing your virginity— ow!" She jerked back from Tatsuki's punch.

"That's not something you bring up here in public, in the middle of the school!" Tatsuki glared at Chizuru but kept her voice low as well. "She told us in confidence, because we're her best friends, and we promised to keep it _in confidence_." Her face was dark with anger as she rounded on Chizuru, who paled.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" the redhead whispered, ducking her head in apology.

Orihime was simply standing there, her face redder than the throat of the lilies she held. The whole thing was mortifying, and she really wished at the moment that she had followed her relatives' insistence that she wait until marriage. Although she was a legal adult now and entitled to make her own decisions, it still seemed that relationship questions were much more complicated than she had ever imagined. Perhaps it would have made more sense to have put everything off until after college, as Kurosaki-kun had once insisted. The thought of Kurosaki made her blush even further. Why was everything so confusing? A traitorous thought crossed her mind that the straightforward Kurosaki would never have confused her the way Aizen did, but she firmly pushed it away.

Tatsuki said, "I think it's sweet that he's thinking of two months with you as an anniversary, and that he wants to take you somewhere." She smiled at her friend, trying to be reassuring. "Where is he taking you, by the way?"

Orihime gave a half-smile in return and looked at the ceiling. "Um," she began, frantically trying to think of a trip that didn't sound too expensive, "he has a friend with a camper, and we're going to borrow it and go up into the mountains." She blushed again, ashamed that she was lying to her own best friends.

Tatsuki and Chizuru looked a little puzzled. "Camping in the middle of winter?" asked Tatsuki. "Well, I hope that camper has a good heater."

Chizuru grinned. "Ah, they won't need a heater – they'll be keeping each other warm, after all." Then she ducked, the big grin still on her face, as Tatsuki took another swing at her.

XxXxXxX

Aizen walked down the hall of Hirako Pharmaceuticals and knocked on the door of one of the laboratories. When there was no answer, he peered in the window and saw Hirako inside, asleep on the lab couch, his mouth hanging open.

He held his key card up to the reader at the door and slipped inside. The lab smelled of the latest chemical concoction Hirako was working on, and loud jazz was blaring from a set of speakers in a corner. Aizen walked over to the stereo and turned it off. Then he bent down to shake Hirako's shoulder.

"Dr. Hirako!" he called. "Wake up. You asked me to remind you about the company party. It's going on now, sir. Wake up, sir!" he said again, grimacing as he shook Hirako one more time.

Finally the man stirred and groggily opened his bloodshot eyes. He looked up at Aizen blearily, and stared at his white lab coat over a cotton shirt and jeans. "Like always," he mumbled, "your fashion sense is hella' lackin', Sousuke." He struggled to sit up on the couch, brushing his waist-long hair back from his face. "I told ya, this is gonna be one helluva shindig. You was suppose' to wear somethin' swank and snappy."

Aizen looked down at his outfit, his gaze mild. Then he looked back at Hirako, who was also wearing a white lab coat, this one much stained and with a long tear down one side. "I could say the same about you, sir," he said.

Hirako yawned. "Big fry like me ain't gotta worry about that sorta stuff." He swung his legs over the side and heaved himself up to a sitting position. "Hey, what happened to the music?" He glared at the stereo.

"I turned it off, sir, so that you could get ready to go to the party." Aizen's voice was calm.

"Wha— ya don' like jazz? I guess ya ain't as hip and cool as me, then." Hirako's voice was smug.

"No, I was merely trying to help you prepare for the commemoration that your company is running, that you asked me to remind you of." Aizen's voice sounded faintly long-suffering, and Hirako stiffened.

"Seriously!" He snorted. "Pull that stick outta yer ass, Sousuke. 'Commemoration'! Ya gotta loosen up if yer ever goin' ta have a happy life. Awright." He pulled himself up to standing and stalked out of the lab.

Aizen followed him with a calm expression on his face, shaking his head slightly.

Hirako was weaving back and forth and singing as he walked down the hall. He stopped at the door of the break room where they were holding the party. When the door suddenly opened, whoever was behind it banged it hard into Hirako's nose.

"Ow!" he cried in anger, glaring at the diminutive blonde woman standing on the other side, his executive secretary. Her hair was in two high ponytails, her hands on her hips as she scowled at him. His hand went up to rub his abused nose.

"My bad, you stinkin' baldy! I confused your face with a doormat!" she growled. "Why aren't you at the party, you loser?"

Hirako's eyes narrowed further as he glared at her. "Hiyori, why you—"

Aizen sighed to himself as he slid his hand under the lapel of his lab coat to adjust the gain on the recording device he was wearing that Rukia Kuchiki had given him. Hirako's juvenile behavior never failed to irritate him. And the way Hiyori played up to him was disgusting. Why Aizen had to be the low-status employee in this company when the president and owner acted like a drunken teenager was beyond him. Just another example of how wrong things were with the world, how there was so often a vacuum at the top. But someday soon, Aizen thought, he would stand at the top. He would overthrow the conventional order, and never have to be polite to idiots again. He would have enough power that everyone else would have to obey him. As it should be.

But first, he would bow his head and collect evidence on these fools. Just a little while longer.

Turning to his boss, he smiled politely and said, "Hirako-san, shall we join the party now?"

XxXxXxX

Gin watched the face of his master carefully as the gang leader listened to the stumbling report one of the rank-and-file members was giving. Aizen's expression was calm as he leaned an elbow on the armrest of his chair and propped his chin on his knuckles. In the background, the furnace rumbled to life and the dim light in the basement room increased slightly. The crowd of gang members shifted slightly as the blond teen giving the report continued to stutter.

Gin wondered when Aizen would order him to shut up. He was usually less than tolerant of incompetence in his subordinates, but today, Gin mused, Aizen seemed to be in a very relaxed and pleasant mood.

Finally, the blond youth stumbled to a stop and looked up timidly at Aizen. The gang leader appeared to be lost in thought for a moment, and then he said, "Very well. Give your figures to Kaname after the meeting. Your performance was not quite acceptable, but if you promise to do better next time, I will give you one more chance. I do hope you are aware of the consequences should you fail one more time." Aizen's voice was light and pleasant as usual.

The youth let out his breath in relief and bowed his head humbly. "Y-yes, sir. Th-thank you, sir. I really appreciate it," he gasped. "I promise to do much better next time." Panting for breath, his shirt and brow soaked with sweat, he moved back to stand with the other gang members against the wall, wiping his face with his sleeve, still trembling.

Aizen turned to Kaname. "Anything more on the agenda?"

The dark-skinned teen shook his head. "No, sir."

Aizen glanced over the crowd. "Very well. My final announcement is that I will be away on personal business this weekend. In my absence, Hueco Mundo will be in Ulquiorra's hands. You are to obey him as you would me. I will receive a direct report upon my return and will deal with any insubordination personally." The black-haired teen, standing at Aizen's side, nodded in his emotionless way.

Gin watched the gang members to see how they would take the news. Aizen rarely left his headquarters, preferring to keep a tight hold on the reins of his organization through personal contact with his subordinates. Gin doubted a few days' absence would make a significant difference in Aizen's hold over the gang; his underlings were mostly too terrified of him to attempt anything foolish in his absence. In any event, Ulquiorra was a reasonably good choice as proxy. The emotionless teen was utterly loyal to Aizen and completely ruthless. He would not hesitate to kill anyone he deemed disloyal to Aizen or mete out any punishment he found necessary to maintain Aizen's rule of terror.

Still, Gin mused, it was interesting that Aizen had decided that something was so important that it was worth taking time away from his operation during this critical period. The distribution of Breakdown was going extremely well from a financial standpoint; however, Hueco Mundo's success in this area was already attracting wolves in the form of rival gangs trying to muscle in on their territory, dealers being roughed up and having their product stolen, agents attempting to infiltrate their supply lines, and of course the cops from multiple jurisdictions swarming all over the district like ants looking for a source of sugar. Ulquiorra, although loyal, did not have Aizen's genius for planning and strategy, his flexible and wide-ranging ability to react instantly and brilliantly to any situation. It was a tactical error for Aizen to leave the field of battle at this time.

Gin's smile did not falter as he observed Aizen's expression carefully. The teen's expression gave little away, as always. But Gin could detect a new softness in his face. The man— was _happy_, Gin surmised. He had never seen Aizen happy before. Intent, triumphant, pleased with a well-conceived and executed plan, yes… but never _happy_. This emotion was distracting him from his work; and the nature of that work required his entire concentration and delicate touch on the controls at all times. The many complex and interlocking structures Aizen had built required his intelligence to keep track of everything at all times; otherwise, it could all come tumbling down, and would bring many other people down with it, including, especially, Gin. Aizen's new love interest was a weakness, Gin concluded. This woman, Orihime Inoue, posed a threat to all of Hueco Mundo.

The key question, however, thought Gin, was how to remove the threat without incurring Aizen's wrath. Killing the woman was not the problem; it was doing it without Aizen knowing who was responsible. And anyone who knew Aizen knew that the man was absolutely relentless in pursuit of revenge.

It was a true conundrum. Gin pondered. It would take a great deal of careful thought to consider all angles of this problem. It was fortuitous and ironic that Aizen's absence would facilitate that consideration.

XxXxXxX

Aizen lifted himself gracefully out of the limo and reached back to help Orihime exit. They were catching the midnight flight out of La Guardia airport. Orihime looked around in wide-eyed wonder as Aizen paid the limo driver and a uniformed bellhop put their suitcases on a cart. He murmured a few words to the bellhop, who nodded and said, "At once, sir!" before trundling their bags off in the direction of the first-class ticket counter.

Aizen smiled at Orihime and placed his hand under her elbow to steer her in the right direction. She was trying to look everywhere at once and managing only to appear exceedingly confused.

They moved through security rapidly, bowed through by polite staff who checked their first-class tickets and murmured respectful greetings. Aizen smiled faintly. It only took the application of sufficient funds to be treated with the respect he deserved.

Once on the plane, they were seated in two roomy, high-backed seats with a full recline, upholstered in royal blue. The very attentive, neatly-coifed blonde flight attendant chatted with them, fetched pillows and blankets, and served them each a glass of wine. Meanwhile, the economy passengers behind them stood in a long line, shuffled from foot to foot, struggled with their bags and were scolded by the staff for the size of their carry-ons.

Orihime held the glass of wine with a sweaty hand. "Uh, what should I do with this?" she asked Aizen, her brow creasing with anxiety.

He smiled at her. "You are expected to drink it. To do otherwise would be rude." He lifted his glass in a silent toast to her and drained it.

"But," she whispered to him, "I'm not 21 yet."

"Shhh," Aizen said, putting a long finger to his lips. "Don't let them know."

With that, Orihime, her eyes darting back and forth, slowly brought the glass to her lips and began sipping. Aizen watched her with a slight smirk on his face.

As the whine of the engines rose and the plane began to taxi out, the flight attendant returned to take their empty glasses. Aizen smiled at her and leaned back in his seat to watch Orihime, who was staring out the window, watching the lights as the baggage handlers drove by on carts. Her nervousness appeared to have lessened slightly after her glass of wine, and her eyes now looked a little blurred. Aizen took her hand in his and began to gently caress her fingers. She looked up at him and smiled hazily.

XxXxXxX

It all seemed so strange and unreal to Orihime as they reached cruising altitude. The background hum of the engines, the odd vibrations in the seat underneath her, and her love beside her, holding her hand and smiling at her reassuringly. The cabin lights had been dimmed, and all the seats were fully reclined. As the cabin occupants settled for the night, Aizen lifted his body over the armrest between his and Orihime's seat, climbed into hers, and lay down beside her, lifting up the blanket so he could slide in underneath. She squealed briefly and then made room for him in the flat-bed seat.

He cuddled up against her, gazing at her in the dimness. His eyes were alight with wickedness again and she wondered with some apprehension what he was thinking about this time. He brought his lips to hers gently, then slid one hand behind her head and began to kiss her thoroughly and passionately. The other hand began tracing circles over her breasts underneath the blanket, and then started working at some of the buttons of her shirt.

She pulled away in shock. "What are you doing, Sousuke?" she asked. "We're in public here."

He smiled. "So?" he whispered in her ear. "No one can see us."

"What about the flight attendant?" she whispered back, agitated. "Surely it's illegal to make out on an airplane."

Aizen chuckled and looked at her from under his lids, eyes dark with pleasure. "Of course it is. However…" he said as he reached behind her and unhooked her bra under her shirt, "I slipped her a few hundred-dollar bills. She'll leave us alone." He kissed her again, slowly and intensely, and felt her resistance crumble under his lips and tongue. He drew back briefly. "And we're going to do much more than make out, Orihime." His voice was husky with lust and his eyes heavy-lidded as his hands wandered over her body.

XxXxXxX

**A/N:** I've written an M-rated version of the airplane scene – any interest in me posting it as a stand-alone chapter?


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**A/N:** If you're interested, I posted an M-rated version of the airplane scene from chapter 12 as a stand-alone story, _The Mile High Club_. You can get to it from my profile. But it is not necessary to read for the plot of this story, so if you don't like lemons, just skip it and continue on with this chapter.

(Originally posted 3/22/2011.)

XxXxXxX

The air felt somehow soft to Orihime as she stepped off the plane in the pre-dawn stillness at the Kona Airport. She had never been away from her home town before, and her feelings of wonder at the strangeness all around were mingled with her confusion over the events of the night on the airplane with Aizen. He was watching her now, a smile on his face as she tried to look everywhere at once. He took her arm possessively as they walked through the terminal and she marveled at all the strange tropical flowers lining the walkways, and how the building was half-open to the outside, with small birds flying in and out of the corridors.

Aizen observed Orihime as a look of wonder suffused her face at the beauty of the flowers in the airport. Her expression turned to one of surprised delight as two tiny dark birds swooped into the terminal in front of her and one landed at her feet, pecked at a crumb on the floor, and darted away. Inwardly, he marveled at the fact that he could take such joy in another person's delight.

As a matter of fact, it was almost disturbing how his thoughts turned to Orihime all the time now. When she was with him, he was fascinated by the smallest gesture or facial expression she made. When she was not with him, he found himself thinking of her, desiring her, wanting to do something for her or give her something to make her react to him. He found himself ever more inclined to share his knowledge with her, to tell her the truth about more of his life. It would have been frightening if he had ever feared anything. Instead, it was merely exhilarating.

The sight of her lips, her pensive grey eyes, a glimpse of the smooth skin above her breasts… set his heart beating faster until he felt he was going to go mad.

He had always been good at reading people's emotions, and now, he could tell that she was not purely excited about the trip. Something was bothering her. He could see it in the slight turn-down of her lips when her glance fell on him. It was not surprising that he was sensitive to her moods; what was unusual was that he found that all he wanted to do was make her feel better.

When they were finally alone in the rental car, driving to the hotel in the pale light of the new morning, he brought it up.

"Orihime," he said softly. "Something is bothering you. Could you please let me know what it is?"

She looked over at him. "Sousuke," she began, and hesitated.

"Yes?" he asked, and reached one hand over to take hers. "Please tell me."

"What you did last night on the plane… that was wrong."

He looked at her, puzzled. "But it was fun. And I thought you enjoyed it."

"Sousuke, you deliberately pushed me into doing something I didn't want to do, and you know it." Her voice held anger now.

He stopped, considered. He was so accustomed to manipulating people to conform to his desires that it simply had not occurred to him to ask her permission. He had desired her, and so he had taken her. That was how he led his life; he took what he wanted, and everyone around him scrambled for the leavings. Those who dared complain risked an untimely end ... unless he found them sufficiently amusing.

But now, suddenly, everything was different. He realized he should have considered her wishes before manipulating her. To his surprise, he felt something he could not remember feeling before: regret. He was genuinely sorry that he had upset her.

"Orihime… I'm sorry." He looked at her with sorrow in his eyes and took her hand. "You're right. I've… never really had a relationship before and I'm finding this is new ground for me."

She looked at him with skepticism. "You're not telling me I'm your first love. I know you've had many experiences before." She frowned at him.

"Sexual experiences, yes." He turned the wheel as they rounded a curve in the road. "But Orihime, you are the first person I have ever loved."

There was silence in the car as she processed that. He could see from her face that she didn't believe him.

"Please believe me. Is it so strange that I have never loved before? To tell you the truth, I had thought I was incapable of love… until I met you."

She looked at him again, still frowning. "The problem is that you have lied to me so often, Sousuke, that I don't know if you're lying now."

He sighed. "And believe me, I have never regretted my past lies to you as much as I do now."

"You lie all the time, Sousuke." Her voice had become angrier. "And you're good at it. I've caught myself believing you even when I _know_ you're lying. So how do I know what to do now?"

He sighed again. "I'm afraid there isn't any way to prove what I'm saying is the truth." He glanced sideways at her and she saw the sincere expression on his face that she had seen many times before. He said, "All I can ask is that you look at my actions and not just my words. All I can do is tell you exactly how I feel, and let you draw your own conclusions. I have never felt this way before, and frankly, it almost frightens me… I, who have never felt fear before. I wait for every word you say; I hang on each expression of your face. When we are apart, your face fills my thoughts. Everything that I do, I ask myself, what will Orihime think of my actions? It is disturbing…" He let his voice trail off.

She looked at his profile as his eyes remained focused on the road ahead. It was true; there could be no proof except in his actions, and his actions towards her spoke loudly… except in one particular area.

"But you're still involved with that gang, Sousuke. If you truly cared what I thought, why haven't you left it?"

He was silent for a moment. "It's not that easy to leave a gang, Orihime."

"What do you mean?" she said with irritation. "Just tell them you won't do anything illegal any more."

He smiled at her naiveté. "Orihime, surely you are aware that there would be consequences if I did that."

She looked at him. "I thought you said that Hueco Mundo wasn't as violent as the rumors said."

"But I never said they were completely non-violent. In fact, they would not take kindly to my departure."

"What do you mean by that? What could they do to you?"

He sighed. "I'm sure that I could work something out so that I could… retire. But it would take some planning." He glanced at her. "Planning that I have already begun to make." He didn't tell her that it would likely involve him taking some actions that she would definitely not approve of… such as eliminating certain individuals and manipulating others into killing more. He could not simply walk away from Hueco Mundo and live. He would have to orchestrate a coup, so that the "winners" would believe they had taken over the organization of their own free will. It would have to be a bloody war, so that he could ensure those who might be tempted to seek him out afterward for revenge would not survive. The new leaders would have to be people who were just enough afraid of him to leave him alone, but not so afraid that they would send assassins after him. It would not be easy.

And, indeed, he had already begun to plant the seeds for such a revolution back home even before he left on this trip. He never did anything for a single reason, not even going on vacation with his lover. Even his absence on this trip would serve the purposes he desired. He was aware of the impression he had left behind, with Gin, with Kaname… with Grimmjow. There were enough aggressive and violent tendencies among his top lieutenants that they could be manipulated into the actions and results he intended.

"But Sousuke… would you really be willing to give up all the money?" She was frowning, her arms crossed over her body.

He changed lanes smoothly, and accelerated slowly up the onramp to a highway. "I have accumulated enough capital now to change my methods. From now on, I promise you, I will only make money by legal means." He gave her a smile that still held a hint of wickedness. "Believe me, there are plenty of such means that I can use to create inordinate amounts of wealth. As a matter of fact, the best strategy for me at this point is to acquire assets and funds legally, because beyond a certain point, the risk-reward structure no longer favors illicit activity." His gaze turned back to the highway as he merged into the two-lane road. "I had already planned to become a legitimate businessman as soon as I overcame the unfair restrictions that had been placed on me as a child," he said in a calm voice. "There's no reason not to start a little earlier."

She was still frowning. "How can I believe you, Sousuke, when you keep doing things like you did on the plane? You knew it was illegal, and you went ahead anyway. You dragged me into an illegal act without even considering my feelings or my opinion."

He sighed softly. "I know. It was an error. What if I promise never to do something like that again, never to attempt to persuade you to do anything against your ethics or your will?" He gazed at her intensely. "Will that be enough to convince you that I am sorry from the bottom of my heart?"

She exhaled slowly as she looked into his large, pleading eyes, feeling as though she could get lost in their depths.

"Please," he murmured. And hearing the sound of that deep, seductive voice, now full of remorse, she felt as if the wall she had been trying to build against him had broken. She had been angry, but she could not resist him. Her anger collapsed in a wave of intense affection and love. He was imperfect, but he was willing to change for her. He truly did love her, and she loved him. Sighing, she reached out a hand to him, touched his forearm. He smiled back at her, pleased that he had been forgiven, and wrapped his right arm around her. She relaxed her head against his shoulder and watched the strange and colorful landscape go by.

XxXxXxX

Ichigo stared, aghast, at the petite black-haired girl who looked like a high school freshman, whom he had thought was his friend. He stood stock still on the sidewalk as the cold wind blew through his lightweight jacket. "You're… an undercover cop?"

"Shhh – not so loud!" Rukia cautioned. "Principal Barragan was the only one who knew, up until yesterday. Now it's just two students: you and Sousuke Aizen, whom I've chosen to work with me."

Ichigo's face darkened. "Aizen? Why him?"

"He's an intern at Hirako Pharmaceuticals, and we suspect there may be some illegal activity there. Besides, it's obvious he's not a gang member."

Ichigo scowled, "How is it obvious?" He crossed his arms and began walking again.

Rukia rolled her violet eyes, looking so exactly like a high school student that Ichigo almost laughed. "Oh, please. He's a complete nerd, Ichigo. Besides, Principal Barragan vouches for him."

Ichigo made a sarcastic grimace. "Yeah, if Barragan vouches for him, he must be okay." He stopped again and took her by the arm. "Rukia, Aizen is exactly one of the people I've been suspicious of for weeks."

"Oh, Ichigo," Rukia said, pulling her arm away from him with a frown. "And Barragan was suspicious of you. Everyone is suspicious of everyone else in this school." She scowled with annoyance. "It's made this the toughest job I've ever had."

"But listen, Rukia. Grimmjow is involved for sure. I know he's a member of Hueco Mundo. I even suspect he's one of their leaders, one of the Espada. He may even be their 'Captain.'" He eyed Rukia to make sure she understood the terms, and was gratified to see from her expression she did. "I spotted Kaname Tousen, who doesn't sneeze unless Aizen gives him permission, talking secretly with Grimmjow in a back corridor, and passing him something."

Rukia frowned again. "So?" she asked.

"So, that must mean Aizen is involved with Hueco Mundo," Ichigo said in an insistent undertone, looking around to make sure no one else was in hearing range.

Rukia shook her head. "Ichigo, that's the most far-fetched chain of supposition I've ever heard… and I've heard some pretty far-out stuff here."

"But—" insisted Ichigo, but she cut him off.

"Ichigo, listen to me. Hueco Mundo has been flooding the high school and the neighborhood with false rumors. There's all sorts of misinformation going around. If I were to listen to every single hot tip or rumored sighting, I'd be busy for the next five years, and guess what? I wouldn't get anywhere." She tightened her lips angrily. "We already made one big misstep. I'm not doing anything more without an airtight warrant and superb evidence."

Ichigo opened his mouth to argue, but she glared at him and stomped on his foot to shut him up.

"No, you listen to me. We're going after Hirako Pharmaceuticals. We're building a case against them and for that, we need Aizen's help. I don't want you bad-mouthing him anymore. Now as for you, we need your help here in the school. I want you to help me gain entrance into Hueco Mundo."

Ichigo's jaw dropped. "You— want to become a member of the gang?"

She scowled at him. "I figure it's the only way to really understand what's going on."

"Why would you come to me for help to join them? Plus it's dangerous. Don't you know they kill spies?" He had stopped in the middle of crossing the street and was glaring at her. Then he snorted. "Well— I suppose you could ask Grimmjow," he said with a sneer as he continued across the street.

As they reached the other side, Rukia put her fists on her hips and scowled more ferociously. "No. I have a plan for that. But yeah, it'll involve Grimmjow— and you."

"Me?" asked Ichigo, pointing a thumb at his chest, incredulous. "You are totally out of your mind. There's no way I can help you get membership in Hueco Mundo."

Rukia grinned. "Wait till you hear my plan."

XxXxXxX

The two teens walked barefoot on the beach in the pre-dawn light. The sky was a luminous pale blue combed with thin streaks of cirrus, the air soft as a kiss. The sand under their feet shone silver in the early morning light, the grains fine and silky as powder. Her hair hung loose down her bare back, warm against her skin in the gentle air. She was wearing only gifts from him, as nothing she owned had been suitable for a tropical environment: a brightly colored bikini that showed off her slender waist and generous breasts, and over it only a gauzy white robe that trailed to her mid-thighs. Her pale skin gleamed in the pre-dawn glow.

He was wearing a light white shirt and white shorts, his long, lean limbs bare to the light and the air, his brown hair falling, tousled, over the exquisitely sculpted lines of his face. As he walked beside her, she could sense his grace, his smile; she could feel the warmth of his skin only inches from hers.

The air was filled with scents Orihime had never breathed, flowers sweet as honey from a climate she had never known. And off to her right, filling half the earth and sky, stretching to the horizon with an almost terrifying vastness, was the ocean, which she had also never seen.

She stopped for a moment to look straight out at the dark blue expanse of water, hear the rushing, rhythmic sound of the surf, smell the briny air that was somehow full of promise and excitement. How different it all was from her life in grimy Karakura Town. She had never thought before about what it would be like to spend her days in a place of physical beauty. She was accustomed to the harsh seasons changing from sweltering heat in the summer, when the wet air smelled thick with unwashed bodies and fumes from car exhausts and factories, to the bitter dry grey cold of winter, when the backs of her hands chapped and bled, and she had to balance turning the heat up with the cost of electricity, and the thin snow came down on horizontal blasts of arctic air, only to turn gray and black on the dirty roads, and linger in huge misshapen piles on the sidewalks until spring.

It was all she had ever known, and she had never thought there could be something more. She had always been grateful and happy that she had a place to live, that she had enough to eat, that she had good friends. Not being beaten was enough to make it her paradise.

It amazed her that a place like this island, this beach with its gentle, scented air, could even exist, much less that she was fortunate enough to be able to walk on it.

She felt a caress of warmth, and turning, saw the brilliant rim of the sun appear over the mountains to the east. The light flashed on Aizen's face as he turned to gaze at her. There was a soft and gentle smile on his face, an expression that matched the delicate atmosphere around them.

Aizen, watching Orihime as the sun rose and flushed her rosy cheeks with morning light, thought he had never seen anything so beautiful. She was a flower to rival all the opulent tropical blooms on the island. He could see in her expression that she was profoundly affected by the beauty and luxury of her surroundings, and his own response to her joy shocked him with its intensity and depth.

He had, of course, traveled to many places already in his young life, had been to Hawaii more than once, had even brought a woman who had pleased him here before. He had enjoyed beautiful places and lush surroundings, had felt pleasure at his ability to purchase comfort.

But nothing had prepared him for this emotion that shook the foundations of his body and mind, this earthquake of the soul. It was a tidal wave that had inundated everything he had ever believed.

He would do anything to make her smile like this. He would bring her the sun on a golden platter. He would give her the world so she could hold it in her hands. Of all the things he owned, or had ever desired to acquire, there was nothing to compare to her. She was the only thing he would ever want. There was no one else like her, now or forever. He would move the world for her, would mold it, shake it to its core, so that Orihime would never be unhappy again.

He moved to her, took her in his arms, and brushed his lips across the top of her head. "I want to give you everything, Orihime," he murmured. "Anything you want shall be yours. Simply say the word."

Orihime smiled and turned her beautiful face up to his, her grey eyes beseeching. "I only want you, Sousuke. I don't need anything else. I want us to be together and to love each other and to be happy together."

He held her tightly. "Then you shall have that." He was silent for a moment as the disk of the sun gradually moved free of the earth and spread a comforting warmth over his bare arms, the hairs on his forearms gleaming gold in the sunlight. Then he said them, said the words that he had never meant before, and even though he could lie more convincingly than most people could tell the truth, now he was speaking a deeper truth than he had ever known existed. "I love you, Orihime."

"I love you too, Sousuke." The sun glinted off her incredible fall of auburn hair, and his hands were buried in it, her face tilted up toward his.

Gently, he bent his head to hers, touched his lips to hers, and kissed her. He knew now that she was the most precious thing on earth to him, and that nothing else mattered, had ever mattered. He was acute enough to realize the irony; he had been cynical above all others, using the word "love" without any clue of what it truly meant, using other people's adoration for his own selfish purposes, making witty, cynical statements such as "Admiration is the state furthest from understanding," thinking of love as a weakness to be exploited, of emotion as merely a means to manipulate others. How wrong he had been, and how foolish; he, who had thought himself above all others, to have been missing out on this wonder, this miracle, this joy.

He kissed her, and he lost himself in the kiss, in the moment under the morning sun on an island blessed by a divine hand to be as welcoming to the human body and soul as the earth could be. In this moment, there was nothing else but Orihime and their love for each other, and he could be free, for a moment, of the constant watchfulness, the never-ending scheming, and the roiling ambition that had burned inside him as far as he could remember. He could be truly free, and could love and care for another soul as humans were meant to care for one another. Finally he knew: this was his birthright as a human being, not above all others but one with all others, never lonely again but forever complete, in the arms of the woman he loved.

XxXxXxX

Gin moved silently down the hall toward the corner where he heard a murmured conversation. Slipping past the corner, he saw Grimmjow and Nnoitra, speaking together in low voices.

"My, my," he said brightly, and watched with pleasure as they guiltily jumped apart and looked nervous. "So what're you two talkin' about here, hmmm?" His smile widened as he scrutinized them from behind slitted eyes.

Grimmjow scowled. "Just talking about the next shipment, Ichimaru. What's it to you?" He stuck out his chin with a belligerent glare.

"Oh, nothin'…" Gin allowed his voice to trail off. "I was just thinkin' that it was too bad taichou chose ta go on a luxury tropical vacation fer the weekend… 'specially when there's so much goin' on right here." He watched their faces closely.

Nnoitra scratched his crotch and frowned. "Yeah, so what? Taichou does whatever he wants, doesn't he?"

Gin raised his eyebrows. "Surely ya heard about what happened to Aisslinger an' Demoura last night, didn't ya?" he said delicately.

"What happened?" growled Grimmjow, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh," Gin lifted his hand and examined his fingernails closely. Not looking up, he said, "You know they were guardin' the Twenty-Second Street warehouse, right? Well, it seems they were ambushed by some of our rivals from Eastside who decided to bomb the warehouse… an' they were killed when the building collapsed on them."

Nnoitra and Grimmjow exchanged glances. Then Nnoitra snarled, "So? They were careless. They blew it. What's it to us?"

Gin raised one shoulder in a careless shrug. "Oh, so ya don't think it's a problem that he's off foolin' around with his little piece while we're all riskin' our lives for him here?"

Grimmjow growled, "That almost sounds like insubordination, Ichimaru."

"Ooh," Gin said, still grinning, "such big words yer usin', Grimmjow. I'm just sayin'… while he's gone, anything could happen. An' I might suggest that you two might think about which side of the bread is buttered if anything does happen." With a suggestive sneer, Gin backed away and faded around the corner, laughing to himself.

Nothing like sowing a little misdirection and confusion.

XxXxXxX

They walked, hand in hand, down the beach to the central area of the resort for the breakfast buffet. The restaurant was under a huge thatched roof but without walls or windows, completely open with a view of the beach and the ocean stretching out limitlessly beyond it. To one side, walkways meandered through lush green lawns bordered by oleanders, leading down to the most elaborate swimming pool Orihime had ever seen. The pool was ringed by rough volcanic rocks, and at one side a rocky outcrop had been built up and planted with extravagantly colored vegetation. From between two large rocks poured a waterfall that plunged into the pool below.

"Why do they have a pool when we're so close to the ocean?" Orihime wondered.

Aizen laughed. "People might sometimes not feel like swimming in salt water."

"It's amazing," Orihime marveled, "all these extras just for what people might feel like."

Aizen took her hand and smiled at her. "You're just not used to luxury, Orihime." He brought her hand to his lips and gazed at her over it. "I intend to remedy that situation."

She shrugged. "I don't know if I really want to get used to it." She frowned. "It seems… kind of excessive."

They had come to the front desk of the restaurant, and a young, dark-haired woman with flowers in her hair smiled at them and seated them at a table with a direct view of the ocean.

"Help yourselves to the buffet at any time," she said, smiling.

The two of them walked to the back of the restaurant, and Orihime stopped suddenly and gasped at the array of food that was laid out, stunning in its variety and amount. Her eyes slowly traveled across the hundreds of feet of buffet tables, piled high with food ranging from grapefruit, bananas, strawberries, papayas, grapes, pineapple, to hot cereals and waffles to rice and a huge roast. To one side, a man in a tall chef's hat was making omelettes to order. On another, a short line had formed at a crepe-making station. There were more vegetables than Orihime had ever seen in her life on a long platform.

Aizen watched with pleasure as Orihime's eyes went wide and her face became suffused with a look of joy. She looked at him in amazement. "Can we really eat all we like?"

He smiled at her. "Of course. All you can eat."

"And we can go back for seconds?" She seemed to be struggling with a look of incredible bliss.

"And thirds and fourths," he added, "if you so choose."

He was delighted with the effect the food had on her. He loved watching the gusto with which Orihime ate. She had the appetite of at least three teenagers, yet never seemed to put on weight. Her eclectic gastronomic tastes were actually one of the primary reasons he had thought of this Hawaiian vacation, as he had never seen a buffet more sumptuous and varied than was provided at this resort. He had immediately known she would love it, and he was inordinately pleased to see her reaction.

She moved forward, almost as though in a dream, to pick up a plate and begin piling it high with as many different kinds of food as she could. She stopped after a moment, frowning, hesitating between an array of glistening red strawberries and a tray of sweet red bean paste. Her plate was almost full and there was just a tiny bit of room left for the last selection.

Aizen put one arm around her waist. "Don't worry," he murmured, lips brushing her ear. "You can always come back and get the other one."

She smiled up at him, her eyes wide with delight. "Okay!" She laughed as she spooned red bean paste onto her plate.

As they returned to the table, Aizen set his plate down and pulled out her chair for her. She sat down gracefully. She was growing more accustomed to polite company, Aizen noted, pleased.

He would not manipulate her, but he could still… gently nudge her in the direction he wanted. "See?" he asked, as she began tucking into the food. "Luxury isn't such a bad thing to get used to, is it?"

She grimaced at him, waving her fork, her mouth full, and he laughed. She swallowed, stared at him for a moment, then a grin split her face and she laughed too.

XxXxXxX

The wind had died down, but a leaden sky pressed down over the thin layer of snow that had fallen overnight. The sun had barely risen, but in one of the asphalt yards in back of the school, a dark-skinned youth was moving through an intricate martial-arts dance.

Gin watched silently as Tousen went through his moves. Inwardly shaking his head, he thought that only Kaname would be practicing tai chi outside on such a cold and miserable day. The man was insanely self-disciplined, and never even seemed to think that a man might need some fun to lighten up his busy life.

He waited until Tousen had completed his routine, and then walked over casually as the youth began his post-workout stretching.

"Hey, Tousen, how's it goin'?" His grin was as wide as usual and Tousen only grunted in response. Gin knew Tousen despised him, but that just added to his amusement. He had learned long ago from Aizen that hatred was one of the most easily manipulated emotions.

"Have ya gotten the reports on the weekend activity yet?" Gin knew that Tousen already had the reports, but he wanted to see how the other teen would react.

"Of course, Ichimaru." Tousen's voice was clipped with annoyance. "What do you want?" He communicated with Gin as little as possible, exchanging only information that was necessary for their positions as Aizen's lieutenants. Gin knew that he would be irritated by his seeking him out like this, outside of regular channels, and his ever-present grin widened.

"Oh, I was jus' noticin' that there's been a significant drop in revenue over the weekend since taichou's been gone."

"So?" Tousen bent to stretch over his left leg.

"And in general, ever since he's been… distracted… by this woman, there's been a downward trend in revenues." He gazed intently at Tousen. "Ya gotta have seen it."

"Your point being?" the other youth bit out as he continued to stretch without looking at Gin.

"I was jus' thinkin' that she hasn't been really good for the organization. Don't ya agree?"

Kaname straightened and glared at Gin. "I see where you're going with this, Ichimaru, and it's not going to work. You're trying to manipulate me into doing something about this woman. Well, I don't like what's happening either, but there's no way in hell I'm going to eliminate Orihime Inoue."

Gin backed away in mock surprise, raising his hands. "Oh, no, I never said anythin' like that."

Kaname continued to scowl. "He would know. He always knows."

"No, who said anythin' about killin'?" Gin's smile grew. "I was thinkin' about somethin' more subtle. Somethin' no one could object to… or trace back to us."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

(Originally posted 4/2/11)

XxXxXxX

Orihime had walked to school singing that morning. Some days the cold bothered her, but not today. It was a brilliantly clear winter day, shards of sunlight glinting off icicles decorating the eaves of the buildings as she walked by. It had snowed over the weekend, and although the streets had already been cleared, with cars rushing by and throwing up salty, dirty brine on the sidewalks, the town still looked relatively white and clean.

She couldn't remember having felt so happy. She felt as though she had so much energy that she could run to school and never get tired. She could not stop grinning when she thought of the past weekend. She felt as though the sun were shining out from within her own body, keeping her warm despite the bitter cold of the winter air, and shining out upon everyone around her. She called out greetings to various classmates as she approached the school and they all returned them cheerily. What great friends she had. What terrific people went to Karakura High, she thought.

As she walked into school, Tatsuki waylaid her by the water fountain near the entrance to the school.

"Hey, Orihime! How was your weekend?" Her friend was grinning at her already, and Orihime returned the wide smile.

"Oh, it was great!" She bent to take a big gulp of water from the fountain; she was warm and flushed after the brisk walk from home.

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?" Tatsuki linked her arm through Orihime's as they walked up the stairs to their lockers.

"What's to tell?" she said, suddenly cautious. "We had a good time together. We talked a lot."

Tatsuki examined her face carefully, narrowing her eyes as she looked her friend over. "You can't have spent much time indoors. Your face looks tanned."

"Oh— tanned? Eheheh," Orihime laughed nervously. She put her hands to her cheeks. "Why, that's strange."

Tatsuki looked puzzled. "How can you get tanned on a camping trip in the winter?"

"Uh…" began Orihime, frantically casting around for a plausible story. "We, uh, were out in the snow! Yeah, the sun must have reflected off the snow and given me a bit of a burn. Eheheh, I should have used more sunscreen, but who would have thought that you need sunscreen in the winter?" She gave another high-pitched laugh that sounded really artificial to her ears.

Her friend scratched her ear, bemused, as they stopped at their lockers. "You went hiking in the snow?"

"Uh, yeah! That's right. It was fun!"

"I heard that there was nearly a foot of snow in the mountains. Wasn't that hard to hike in?" Tatsuki cocked her head at her.

Orihime turned to her locker and focused intently on twisting her combination lock. "Uh— yeah, right… we, uh, didn't just go hiking… we went… snowshoeing!" She grinned suddenly at her idea. "Yeah, we walked around all day in snowshoes, and it was really hard to get used to them, so it was difficult to get back to the camper at the end of the day." She laughed. "So that's why we were out so long in the snow, and why I got burned!"

Tatsuki was giving her a strange look, but then she shrugged. "Well, that certainly sounds interesting," she said, turning to her own locker and opening it.

"Hey, Hime! How was the big weekend?" Chizuru came up from behind Orihime and threw her arms around her, causing the other girl to yelp in surprise. Because Tatsuki was there and glaring, Chizuru avoided Orihime's breasts and just gave her a friendly squeeze.

"Oh, it was fine!" Sliding out of Chizuru's grasp, Orihime bent to pick up her math book from the bottom of the locker and frowned. Had she forgotten today's assignment?

Chizuru waggled her eyebrows at her. "You look like you've had some sun! Where did you say you went for the weekend?"

"She went snowshoeing." Tatsuki said. She gave her friend a sidelong glance. "Isn't that right, Orihime?"

"Eheheh! Yeah. We went snowshoeing in the mountains on our camping trip." She put a hand behind her head and laughed again, shrilly. She could feel her face flush with embarrassment.

"Snowshoeing?" The redhead looked surprised. "Where did you go?"

"Uh—" Orihime bit her lip. This lie was getting way too complicated. She cast her eyes about desperately for help, and spotted Aizen at the end of the hall, coming up the stairs with Gin Ichimaru beside him. Aizen was saying something to Ichimaru, who had an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face.

Orihime lifted an arm and waved wildly. "Good morning, Sousuke-kun!" she called.

His head came up and he smiled. She could feel the warmth of his smile from all the way across the hall. He immediately walked toward her, away from Ichimaru, leaving the other teen staring at his backside, with what almost looked like an angry look on his face.

He came up to the three girls and inclined his head. "Good morning, Orihime, Arisawa-san, Honshou-san." His eyes locked on Orihime and he smiled, as the others returned his greetings.

"So, I hear you introduced Orihime to a new sport," Tatsuki began.

Aizen glanced at her, his face calm as usual.

Orihime jumped in. "Uh, I was just telling them that we went snowshoeing in the mountains on our camping trip this weekend."

The brown-haired youth picked up the thread effortlessly without even a flicker of surprise in his expression. "Yes, Orihime did very well for her first time on snowshoes." He smiled at her with a hint of pride on his face.

Once again, Orihime marveled at how smoothly he lied.

"Where did you go?" asked Chizuru again.

"Past the river and into the wilderness area at the east end of the national park." Aizen leaned forward suddenly, eyes focused on Tatsuki's face. "What happened to you, Arisawa-san?"

"Me?" asked Tatsuki. "What do you mean?"

Aizen lifted a hand to her face and traced a small bruise on her cheek with a long finger. "You have a bruise here; what happened?"

"Oh!" She put her hand up to her face and gave a rueful laugh. "I was sparring in karate practice and one of my opponents got past my guard, that's all. He wasn't able to pull his punch in time."

Aizen smiled at her. "I wouldn't have thought there was anyone who could get past the Women's Champion's guard at this point."

Tatsuki shrugged. "Oh yeah, it happens. I messed up this time. I—"

Chizuru interrupted. "You don't look tanned, Aizen-san."

"Tanned?" he said, lifting one eyebrow.

"From the snow," she said. "From being out in the snow all weekend, like Orihime here."

Aizen glanced over at the auburn-haired girl, who was blushing again. "She does look a little rosy from all that healthy outdoor activity." He grinned down at her, and she blushed further. "By the way, Orihime, did you do problem 17 on the calculus homework due today? I had a question about what the teacher was asking us to prove there." He pulled her aside and Orihime gratefully dug in her backpack for her math notebook. His hand was on her arm and his touch shot electric tingles through her entire body. She looked up at him and smiled brilliantly, her unease about lying to her friends forgotten in his proximity.

He smiled down at her, a warm, comforting smile, and all at once it felt to Orihime as though the two of them were alone. The crowded, noisy hall faded away, and they were within a magical golden shield that somehow could keep the world at bay.

Then the school bell rang, and it was time to go to class. Orihime breathed a sigh of relief as she hurried off. She had gotten away with another lie. But how long, she wondered, until Tatsuki or Chizuru caught her out? What would she do then? The golden shield had faded; the glow of the Hawaii sun was gone. How was she going to continue living this double life, here in the very ordinary world of Karakura Town?

XxXxXxX

Aizen sat in his armchair, alone in his study at the clubhouse, relaxing with a glass of wine, gazing into the fire and pondering. It had been quite a busy day, coming back to his organization after only three days away. In some ways, it had been quite… entertaining… to see the mischief that several of his subordinates had been up to while he was away. In other ways… he sighed. The manipulation of his organization sometimes had begun to seem a little tedious to him these days.

He gazed into the fire, watched as a piece of the log began to glow, finally dropped off the larger block of wood, and then fell through the grate to the stone hearth beneath. It used to be that every time he had a spare moment, he would think about his latest plans, contemplate new schemes, and work out little details on existing operations. But now… all those spare moments went to thinking about Orihime. The hours he used to spend planning new ways to increase his power and wealth now went to reminiscing about past moments spent in her company or to planning how to make their next date even more spectacular.

And right now, it was hard to sit here, alone in his clubhouse study, when he knew she was only five minutes away, in her apartment, alone. He rose, paced to the back of the room, returned.

He had grown unaccustomed to denying himself anything. He wanted her, now.

In the early days, he remembered, he had spent long periods of time denying himself, waiting, planning. He had waited for years: a very long portion of a young person's life. Patience was his strong suit. He reminded himself of that, took a series of deep breaths.

And it was critical that he focus, right now. He must not become distracted. He had to admit it to himself. She _was_ a distraction, a dangerous distraction from the many critical and delicate operations he was running now, that all needed his adroit touch on the controls. He sighed. Gin and Ulquiorra were right, he admitted. They were the only ones who were brave enough to tell him to his face the extent of the danger to which he was exposing himself now.

When he had received the report from Ulquiorra, his commentary at the end had been unusually blunt. Almost scathing for Ulquiorra. His lips twitched. Ulquiorra's recommendation had been clear. Dump the girl and move on, or risk his entire operation.

Now Gin, Gin's report had been even more interesting.

_Aizen looked up from the coded report he held in his hands, eyed Gin. "I notice you've stopped trying to get me to extricate myself from my relationship with Orihime Inoue, Gin. Why is that?"_

_Gin shrugged. "Eh, I just figure ya deserve a bit of happiness, don'cha? 'Sides, nothin' I said has made a difference, so I decided to stop wastin' my breath."_

Aizen knew what that meant. It must be that Gin was starting to make plans to eliminate Orihime as a threat. Whether that involved harming her—unlikely, since Gin knew him and his ability to take vengeance—or some more complicated plan, it was likely he would move on it soon. Aizen sighed.

He moved back to his armchair, lowered himself into it once more. He lifted the glass of wine on the end table and took another long, slow sip, considering the issues from several angles. Then he stopped, as his mind drifted briefly and his lips quirked into a smile.

"Snowshoes," he thought to himself, and laughed inwardly at her bizarre imagination, shaking his head. It was quite clear, even to him, that Orihime Inoue was not merely a weakness or a liability. She was a great big hole in his security, a major risk to his careful plans, plans he had been laying all his life. Regardless of her intentions, she could not lie to save her life; it was only a matter of time before her friends figured out exactly what was going on. Especially with the suspicious, jealous Ichigo Kurosaki wagging around her all the time. He frowned.

He had been careful around her, had told her nothing that could incriminate him. But her conscious or unconscious actions could certainly throw suspicion on him. And he had received Ulquiorra's report that Rukia Kuchiki had made contact with Kurosaki, was attempting to involve him somehow in her plans to infiltrate Hueco Mundo. Kurosaki would undoubtedly confess his suspicions of Aizen himself to Rukia. Aizen calculated that she would not hear them at present; however, that could easily change. She could pose a substantial risk to his organization and to him personally.

Slowly, an idea for dealing with Rukia's suspicions emerged in his thoughts, and he allowed it to surface as he considered its possibilities. Yes, he decided. This would be the best way to get Rukia Kuchiki off his back and onto the pursuit of his false trail leading to Shinji Hirako. He leaned back in his chair, his agile mind already leaping to address the problem of creating the scenario he envisioned. It was perhaps an unnecessarily complex plan, but he always enjoyed those. Indeed, it was almost his specialty. To create an elaborate structure that was so complex that none of his enemies could fathom its depth. They would be unable to believe that everything was a coincidence. And it was always so much fun to plan.

He smiled. He would draw Ichigo Kurosaki into it as well, he decided. Like a skillfully-developed chess game, each move would serve multiple purposes.

But what about Orihime? Where did she fit into this chess game? Perhaps, he thought, with a sense of infinite regret, he would need to distance himself from her. Just for a time. For enough of a time for him to be able to complete his plan.

Additionally, he would need a sacrifice. Who, he wondered, would be the sacrificial lamb from his own organization? He mused on the problem, taking another sip of wine. Gin had been showing more and more signs of disloyalty. Perhaps he would be the one. Too bad, he thought. Gin had been quite useful to him during Hueco Mundo's meteoric ascent. It would be a shame to lose him. Were there any other possibilities? He needed someone high-ranking to make sure it was realistic. As a result, he would be losing a valuable piece from his operation. Regrettable. But necessary.

Well, Grimmjow was always a choice, since his rebellious streak made him a risk to the operation in any event. Aizen's lips twisted with amusement at the thought of the blue-haired teen, scowling, locked up in a jail cell, accused of crimes Aizen had committed. But Grimmjow was so much fun to play with; it was so purely entertaining to play the man, giving him just enough rope to almost—but not quite—hang himself, and to watch him sweat. Ah, he enjoyed Grimmjow too much to use him up as a sacrifice right now. Still, if the conditions were right, it might be for the best. Especially if he ended up having to put his "retirement" plan into effect.

He sipped his wine and gazed into the fire. He would not sacrifice his most loyal lieutenants. Ulquiorra and Kaname were safe for the nonce. But perhaps another member of the Espada? It might be best to wait for a while and see who else was showing signs of disloyalty after Aizen's little absence. Events such as these, although inconvenient for the efficient running of the gang, did serve their purposes.

In the meantime— he thought, sighing once again, that his mind had circled back to the problem of Orihime Inoue. She would be distressed by his distancing, he knew, and fought down a twinge in his heart.

He gave a long, long sigh once more. He had been deluding himself in Hawaii, he knew. When he was so far away from his own day-to-day operations, it had been easier to imagine that a normal life with Orihime was possible. But he knew in his heart that 'normal' was simply not going to be in the cards. Still, it would definitely be easier once he no longer had to pretend to be merely a poor high school student. If Orihime were the wife of a wealthy, legitimate businessman, she would no longer have to worry about lying. Unfortunately, Aizen thought to himself with another sigh, it was going to take a while before he could get them both to that situation.

XxXxXxX

Grimmjow walked a little nervously up the stairs to a part of the school he rarely went to. The spot between his shoulder blades prickled, as Kaname Tousen was right behind him. At the top of the stairs, Tousen moved in front of him and unlocked an unmarked door at the end of the hall.

The two of them entered a small office. Aizen was sitting in the high-backed chair behind the desk, working on a tablet computer. He looked up as they entered, and his lips moved into a smile that did not reach his eyes. He motioned the blue-haired youth to a chair in front of the large desk.

"Greetings, Grimmjow," Aizen said in a soft voice. Grimmjow sat down, swallowing. What was all this about? "Thank you for coming here so promptly."

Grimmjow growled to himself but made sure to keep silent. Why was Aizen always so fucking polite? He personally preferred people who were more straightforward about their feelings, even if they hated you. With Aizen, you never could tell where you stood. He could speak to you like you were his best friend and then stab you a moment later. It was disconcerting. At least, with someone like Kurosaki, you always knew where you stood.

He tried to keep his face neutral, but he could see the amusement in Aizen's eyes at his expression.

"You had something to show me?" He knew his voice was more brusque than it should be in front of Aizen, but he really couldn't help himself. The brown-haired teen's eyes narrowed fractionally at the show of disrespect, and Tousen stiffened.

Fortunately, Aizen was too task-oriented at the moment to take the opportunity to chastise Grimmjow. The latter breathed a sigh of relief as Aizen merely nodded to Tousen. "Kaname. Start the recording." The dark-skinned teen glared at Grimmjow for a moment, then moved to a cabinet at the side of the room and fiddled with various controls.

"All right," the voice of Ichigo burst out from the small speaker in the center of the desk, "why are we meeting in a _supply closet_? This is ridiculous, Rukia."

The three sitting around the desk listened intently as Kaname raised the volume slightly. Aizen was relaxing in his desk chair, eyes partially lidded as he watched Grimmjow's reaction. Grimmjow still had a look of wary puzzlement on his face, but he was paying close attention to the recording.

"No, it's good security," came the sharp rejoinder from the undercover cop they all knew. "What I have to say to you is highly sensitive, and should not be discussed outside this room."

"Why is it safe to talk here and not anywhere else?" Ichigo's voice still sounded irritated.

"This room has been swept for bugs and is secured. We also don't know who among the student body is a spy for Hueco Mundo, so we don't want to take the chance of being overheard."

Ichigo grumbled. "I guess I'm not used to all this cloak and dagger stuff."

"Well, do you want to stop Hueco Mundo or not?" The woman sounded annoyed as she raised her voice. The listeners could picture her standing up and placing her fists on her hips.

Ichigo subsided; his voice was resigned when he continued. "Fine, fine. Don't get your knickers in a twist. So, what's your big plan then?"

There was the sound of the shuffling of paper.

"As we've discussed before, I think the best strategy is for me to try to infiltrate Hueco Mundo itself. I'm going to try for membership in the gang."

"Yeah, and not even taking into account how dangerous that is, how do you expect to do it? Half the school wants to join Hueco Mundo. Even many of the law-abiding kids think that gang is cool." Ichigo's voice swelled with outrage.

His eyes still focused on the small speaker, Grimmjow snorted with laughter at Ichigo's comment. Aizen gave him a small smile. "Hell, even Kurosaki is lusting after us." He leaned back and grinned widely at the other two, more relaxed now. Tousen frowned and motioned for him to be quiet and he subsided.

Ichigo continued, "Not that I know much about it, but the rumor is that it's quite hard to join, and there's… an initiation of a type that I don't think you'd want to participate in."

Rukia sounded impatient. "Will you shut up and let me explain my plan?"

There was the sound of scratching on paper.

"Here. This is a rough sketch of the second floor of the east wing of the school. During third period, Grimmjow has class here. You have a class here."

"Right, so what's the point?"

"I'm getting to that, so be quiet. Here's what I want you to do tomorrow after third period. The bell will ring, and I want you to make your way over to this corridor, where I'll be waiting."

There was a muffled snort of laughter from Ichigo. "What are you drawing there?"

"I want you to shout at me, pick a fight. Then we'll—"

There was a louder noise of derision from Ichigo. "What is this? Why are you drawing a bunch of rabbits' heads?"

"These represent the people in the plan, idiot! I'm just trying to make this simple so that even someone like you can understand what to do!" Her voice was sharp. "You're to come here and we'll fight right in front of Grimmjow's classroom. I want him to come out and see us punching each other." She paused, and Grimmjow guessed that she was frowning and glaring at Ichigo. "Grimmjow hates you, and if he sees me fighting you, I'm guessing he'll be more favorably disposed towards me. He also knows what a good fighter I am; I could be useful to his gang. I'm also going to drop some hints about needing money. I've already given him some stories about my background in detention schools, so he might think I'd be a good recruit." There was a short pause, and then Rukia continued. "Now, do you have any questions so far?"

"Yeah. I want to know why your drawings suck." Ichigo's voice sounded angry, but he was laughing at the same time.

There was the sound of a loud smack.

"Ow!" cried Ichigo.

"Now, are you going to shut up and listen or not?"

"You just told me to ask questions!"

"I meant questions about the plan, idiot!"

"Then I'm going to say whatever makes you think that such a stupid plan will work? Why would Grimmjow think that just because you're fighting me, that you'd be a good recruit for Hueco Mundo? I mean, Grimmjow may be a scummy lowlife, and look like a brain-dead goon, but he's actually fairly smart. He's not going to fall for it."

Grimmjow smirked at the last of Ichigo's words, muttering, "Call me a brain-dead goon…" He trailed off at Tousen's sharp look.

"Well, do you have any better plan?" Rukia's voice was hard.

There was silence.

"Ichigo, Breakdown is spreading exponentially. I don't have to tell you about all the new deaths, the crime wave driven by addicts in this part of town. We have to do something _now_."

Ichigo's voice was quiet now. "Yeah." He gave a long sigh. "But it's dangerous."

"Stupid idiot." But Rukia's voice sounded affectionate now. "Of course it is. But that's my job. And yeah, I know this plan may not be the greatest. But it's got a chance, and if it doesn't work right away, at least it'll soften Grimmjow towards me, knowing that I can't stand his worst enemy. Maybe I can keep working on him, get in later."

Aizen gestured to Tousen, who stopped the recording. Grimmjow had leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He was grinning sardonically.

"They're right that I wouldn't be so dumb as to fall for that trick."

Aizen gazed at him with a faint smirk on his face. "Of course you wouldn't, Grimmjow. But in this case…" his voice trailed off.

"Yeah." The blue-haired teen grimaced. "You want me to pretend to fall for it, to try to recruit Kuchiki into the gang."

"Yes." Aizen's voice was soft. "Don't make it too easy, but allow her to pique your interest. Indicate to her that you might be willing to recruit her. Draw her out."

"Do you want me to try to get any information out of her?"

"No. She doesn't know anything we haven't obtained from other sources." Aizen was dismissive. "Just… let her think—eventually—that you'll be recommending her for initiation. As you would for any other recruit, don't give her any information. But… let her believe that her _plan_," Aizen grimaced briefly, "is going to be successful."

XxXxXxX

Gin stood beside his leader, watching the assembled gang members carefully. They were in the former teachers' lounge for a quick school-day meeting. He cast a quick glance toward Aizen, who appeared deceptively relaxed, leaning his chin on the knuckles of one slender hand, elbow propped on the white armrest of his chair, eyes half-lidded. Aizen looked half-asleep, but Gin knew that appearances could be quite deceiving. He himself had once witnessed Aizen, just as apparently relaxed, take less than half a second to put a knife in the throat of a student who had dared to sass him from fifteen feet away during a similar meeting.

Then he had been able to move away so quickly that he had avoided getting blood on the white silk shirt he had been wearing that day.

It had all happened so fast that most of the assembled audience had taken several seconds more to realize what had happened. Aizen had sauntered back to his seat, resumed his position gracefully. The boy's body had lain sprawled out, bleeding profusely on the gray cement floor of the basement.

Aizen's face had remained placid throughout the incident. He had waited a beat; just enough time to make sure everyone realized what had happened. Then he had said, in that resonant, melodic voice, as always, utterly calm, "Does anyone else have any opinions on this matter?"

The shocked silence that had greeted him was answer enough.

Gin suppressed the shiver that accompanied the memory, and reminded himself once more never to underestimate his master. He suspected that Aizen might be planning a similar dramatic gesture soon, especially as rumors had been circulating about his recent infatuation with the Inoue girl. Any speculation that he might be getting soft would need to be countered with one of Aizen's frightening displays of power and control.

Yes. Gin was almost sure of it. Aizen was going to make an example of someone soon. Now would be a good time to be abjectly submissive, at least publicly, Gin thought. Idly, he wondered how many of the other gang members would have figured that out. He suspected it would soon be time for a kill. Contrary to the rumors assiduously spread by Hueco Mundo's "publicity" apparatus, Aizen actually killed very rarely. Just enough, Gin knew, to cement his reputation as a potentially unpredictable, murderous bastard. Just enough to keep everyone in his gang suitably terrified and sufficiently cowed.

And it was past time for him to feed that reputation.

If he didn't—well, that would just mean that the Inoue girl was having exactly the wrong effect on him as Gin feared—and that it would be time for Gin to put his plan into effect.

XxXxXxX

The halls were crowded with the usual lunchtime rush; the air in the corridors was damp and pungent with overlays of sweaty teenagers and moldy paper products, and threading through it all was a slightly burnt odor emanating from the cafeteria. A petite, black-haired girl pushed her way determinedly through the crowd of larger students, making her way toward a tall brown-haired student closing a locker at the very end of the hall.

"Aizen-san, I'd like to speak with you in private, if you please." Rukia looked up, with a serious expression on her face, at the much taller youth, who gave her a mild, puzzled glance from behind his glasses in return.

"Of course, Kuchiki-san," he said in a soft voice, agreeable as always.

She smiled and led the way up the stairs. Once in the supply closet, the brown-haired teen looked around the small room in amazement. "This is your base of operations?" he asked.

Rukia narrowed her eyes. "Please don't ask questions. Just know that this is a secured room so that we can discuss matters pertinent to the case here but nowhere else."

Aizen nodded with understanding. "Of course, Kuchiki-san. How can I help you?"

She leaned forward. "First, I wanted to let you know that my superiors were exceedingly pleased with the evidence you gathered in the report you submitted yesterday."

The teen gave her a humble smile. "I'm always glad to be of help to the police, Kuchiki-san. I'm very concerned about the possibility of illegal drug activity in our community."

"They think that it justifies upping the ante on the operation against Hirako Pharmaceuticals. We've gotten authorization to set up a sting."

He raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

"Do you know what that is?" Rukia asked.

A flash of annoyance crossed his face. "Of course."

"Good. The first thing I want to know is—how good are you at acting?" She looked at him with a serious expression on her face.

Aizen favored her with a modest smile. "Well, I've never acted professionally, but I think I've been doing a good enough job hiding my connection with you during my hours at Hirako Pharmaceuticals."

"Yeah." She scrutinized his face. "For this to work, it'll be critical that you be convincing in your role. If you don't think you can handle it, I'll see if I can get another undercover cop to come in on this. What do you think? Be honest now."

He considered her words thoughtfully for a moment, his head on one side. "I think I can do it," he said in his soft, gentle voice.

Rukia weighed his response. He had done an excellent job so far, gathering some rather incriminating circumstantial evidence against Hirako and Urahara. It definitely pointed to the manufacture of Breakdown going on in their lab. But she was still worried about sending in an ineffectual nerd into a potentially dangerous situation that might require some quick on-the-fly thinking.

"You realize that there is risk involved, don't you?" she asked. "If Hirako or his underlings suspect something is going on, there could be bloodshed. Drug manufacturers are seldom pacifists."

He nodded solemnly. "I understand. And I'm willing to take that risk in order to help you. What you're doing is very important."

She looked up at his earnest face and nodded slowly. "Very well then. Here's what I'd like you to do next…"

XxXxXxX

Aizen left school as soon as the bell rang and drove to Hirako Pharmaceuticals. As he entered the smoked-glass front doors, he was pondering how best to carry out Rukia's instructions while serving his own purposes. He flashed his badge at the day security guard and entered the gleaming white corridors leading to the lab.

As he approached the lab door, however, his attention was caught by a racket in one of the side corridors. Peering around the corner, he saw one of the other student interns, Urahara's nephew, waving a broom around wildly. Jinta was supposed to be sweeping the office, but the slight, redheaded youth appeared to be pretending the broom was a baseball bat.

As Aizen watched with mild amusement, Jinta announced to an imaginary audience, "Batter number four, Jinta Hanakari, lines up at the plate. There's his awesome backswing… and wham! It's a killer home run!"

Aizen's eyes narrowed as he watched the boy. Jinta had previously been working as a lab assistant, having been named to that privileged position thanks to his uncle. However, after a number of accidents and a lot of broken glassware, Hirako had demoted him to errand boy and janitor. Jinta hated his new position. However, Hirako hadn't gone so far as to fire the boy, and Jinta apparently needed the money, because he continued to show up for the job. But instead of working, he moped around and tried to avoid doing his assigned tasks as much as possible. It was pitiful, really, how Hirako kept him around instead of terminating an obvious slacker. Yet another piece of evidence that the ex-hippie ran a sloppy operation. No wonder he was having difficulties turning a profit, Aizen thought with scorn.

At that moment, another student intern walked out of one of the doors and into the corridor, also carrying a broom. She had shiny, dark hair in two pigtails and a mournful expression. Jinta's half-sister, Ururu Tsumugiya, was constantly trying to get her brother to take his job more seriously, so far without success.

"Jinta-kun, Tessai-san will get mad that you're not sweeping up." She named the comptroller of the business, Tessai Tsukabishi—who was Hirako's cousin. Aizen, from his position around the corner from them, still unnoticed, snorted to himself. The company was riddled with nepotism. It was pathetic.

After a moment, an idea struck him. He paused, intrigued by its audacity. How could he use these family ties against Hirako? If he could manipulate all of them into the position he wanted, then…yes. He narrowed his eyes further and smirked. He would bring them all down.

XxXxXxX

Orihime was humming as she leaned over to read the next step in the recipe for spinach soufflé. A large pot of chili was simmering on the stove, filling her small apartment with the rich scent of cumin and chili powder. She cracked another egg into her biggest stainless steel bowl and attacked it cheerfully with a wire whisk. As she was busily stirring, there was a tap on the door, and then Aizen let himself in with his key.

He was carrying a grocery bag that he set on the counter beside her. After putting it down, he came up behind Orihime as she was stirring, brushed her hair aside with one hand, wrapped the other arm around her, and nuzzled her neck.

"Mmmm." She relaxed into his embrace. "Sousuke, it's great to see you! Wait till you see what I'm making for dinner. Chili and spinach soufflé! Isn't that a great combination?"

He raised his eyebrows and spoke into her sweet-smelling hair. "Sounds—original," he said, smiling to himself. "I brought some bananas and chocolate ice cream for dessert."

"Oooh, chocolate, thank you!" she said in delight. "I knew I'd forgotten something."

He started taking things out of the bag and putting them away in her refrigerator.

"So how was your job today?" she asked as she turned on a burner, put a pat of butter in a skillet, and waited for it to melt. "You went to your internship, right?" Suddenly, she was a little nervous. She never really knew what Aizen did after school, and it occurred to her that he could have been lying to her about the internship as well.

"Yes," replied Aizen. "It went quite well." He leaned over her to look at the stove. The chili was boiling so vigorously that red sauce was splattering over the white ceramic finish under the pot. He reached around her to turn down the burner. "Here, I think the heat needs to be a bit lower on this one, Orihime."

"Oh!" she said, looking a little confused. "Thank you. You're right; the recipe said to simmer. Do you know what level the burner should be at for 'simmer'?"

"You set the knob about halfway." He showed her. "The flames should just be about that high. Do you see?"

"Oh, yeah. Thanks for your help." She giggled. "How come you know so much about cooking, Sousuke? Well, you know so much about everything, actually." He astonished her regularly with his breadth of knowledge. She smiled to herself; how lucky she was to have such an impressive boyfriend. She could forgive his little… quirks. As soon as she thought it, her mind skittered away from those thoughts. She didn't want to think about the things she found less than perfect in him; it was too frightening to think about what other sorts of things he had been… mixing up… in his lab.

Ichigo Kurosaki had talked to her again today, about all the Breakdown overdoses in his clinic, and about Hueco Mundo's suspected involvement. It was distressing, especially when she started wondering, if Hueco Mundo were truly only selling marijuana, for what synthesis tasks they were paying Aizen huge amounts of money? She had an awful, sinking feeling about what he was actually synthesizing. It could only be some extremely valuable, illegal chemical. How else would he make enough money to be able to afford to spend thousands of dollars on a weekend trip? But… her mind turned away from those thoughts again. Surely he wouldn't be involved with such a terrible crime… would he?

He shrugged without saying anything in response to her question about cooking and got a spoon out of her drawer and dipped it in the chili, took a taste. "Mmm. Tastes good. Although… I think it could use a little more garlic." He took a clove down from the braid hanging on the wall, found her garlic press, and squeezed the juice from the clove into the simmering red liquid.

In the meantime, Orihime had poured the soufflé into a baking dish and slid it into the oven, setting the timer and giving a small, satisfied sigh. "There. That's all done and ready. Now we just need to wait."

"Ah." Aizen smiled at her and slipped his arms around her body, her skin still heated from proximity to the stove. "I have the perfect idea of how we can pass the time while we wait for dinner to be ready." He spun her around and scooped her up off the ground with a flourish.

She gave a little squeak which was quickly muffled as he brought his lips to hers. They shared a long, intense kiss as he carried her into the bedroom. When he released her, he tumbled her down onto the bed and leaned over her with heat in his deep brown eyes. He ran his hands through the luxurious array of her hair fanned out on the bed beneath her.

"Orihime. You are so beautiful," he whispered. He looked at her with wonder in his eyes. It still astonished him how much she could affect him. When he was with her, he could forget, for a while, all the pressing, dangerous concerns that surrounded him.

And yet, as he kissed her again, he knew that he was indulging himself recklessly in her. She was like an addictive drug, taking his mind away from what he needed to do to survive. He really should spend less time with her, more time making sure his plans with the gang came to fruition. He had so much to do…

And yet… and yet… he could not tear himself away from her. Not tonight, at least, he thought. He would stay with her tonight. Tomorrow… tomorrow would be soon enough to do what he needed to do.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

(Originally posted 4/14/2011.)

XxXxXxX

Grimmjow swaggered around the corner, grinning to himself as he heard the shouts from up the hall. Actually, he was going to enjoy seeing Kurosaki and Kuchiki going head-to-head. He had to admit he admired them both for their fighting skills. They were a joy to watch, and he couldn't wait for a rematch with either of them. He was itching to fight Kuchiki again after she had taken him off-guard a few months ago. Hopefully his chance would come soon. There was no way someone would be let into Hueco Mundo without demonstrating their fighting skills. He grinned widely, and then smoothed his face into a neutral expression as he approached the ongoing fight.

Kids were gathered in a tight ring around the combatants as Grimmjow pushed his way through the crowd, most of them cheering Rukia on as she punched her much larger opponent, giving him a hard right uppercut. Grimmjow smirked. Actually, it was pretty obvious that Kurosaki was pulling his punches, he thought, eying the moves of the two combatants critically. The man was much larger than his opponent and equally as fast, although her moves looked better trained. Kurosaki was clearly a natural fighter, and had come to it without much schooling. The two of them were shouting insults at each other as though they hated each other, and Grimmjow had to admit they were doing that part of the show exceedingly well.

Grimmjow stopped to admire the grace and elegance of Kurosaki's style as he sidestepped, spun, and punched. The youth's muscles bunched and flowed, his fine-featured, scowling face was flushed, and that astonishing shock of orange hair bobbed and shook as he moved. Grimmjow sighed. Now, there was an opponent worthy of Grimmjow himself, as so few opponents were. He paused for just a moment longer to enjoy the show, and then waded in to stop the fight.

"Hey, Kurosaki! Shouldn't you be ashamed of beating up on someone half your size?" he called out, and had the pleasure of seeing Kurosaki's face flush even further with embarrassment.

"Shut the fuck up, Jaggerjaques," Kurosaki shouted, and then the two of them engaged, Grimmjow grinning now with a fierce joy as he laid into the orange-haired youth. Rukia had stopped now and was gasping for breath, watching the two of them.

Grimmjow's grin widened, as he knew that Kurosaki would soon have to pretend to be defeated and slink away. He'd be damned if he let the guy pretend. He was going to be defeated for sure by Grimmjow and the blue-haired man was going to enjoy pounding his rival into the ground. He moved into a near clinch and gave the other man a powerful jab to the lower abdomen, grinning as Kurosaki's breath was knocked out of him and the other jumped backwards, bringing his fists in front of him to block the next blow.

All too soon, Grimmjow heard the annoying voice of a teacher calling on them to knock it off. Shit! That was way too quick, he frowned. You'd think Kurosaki and Kuchiki could have planned it better, given themselves more time.

But both he and Kurosaki stopped immediately with the ease of long practice avoiding school staff seeing them fight. Kurosaki melted into the crowd in one direction, and Grimmjow faded back in the other, carefully timing things so that he would be shoved close to Rukia.

The tiny, black-haired fireball looked over at him with approval. "Nice moves, Jaggerjaques," she said, opening her violet eyes wide and gazing intently up at him.

Grimmjow grinned and swaggered. "Thanks. That Kurosaki asshole giving you trouble, Kuchiki?"

"Nothing I can't handle," she said dismissively. "The asshole was accusing me of trying to deal drugs, can you believe it?" Her lips twisted scornfully.

Grimmjow's jaw dropped in mock dismay. "Oh really? Kurosaki's such an uptight dumbass. He should know better than that." He grinned wickedly at her. "Only Hueco Mundo has the right to deal on this campus. And that ain't you."

"Naw." Rukia eyed him speculatively. "Not that I wouldn't mind getting into some of that action," she said, raising an eyebrow at him. "I could use the dough."

"Oh, I wouldn't know anything about that," Grimmjow said airily. He swaggered off in the direction of his locker, noting with satisfaction that she tagged along behind him.

At his locker, he stopped and twirled his combination. Rukia was at his elbow, looking up at him cockily with those large violet eyes. "Hey Grimmy," she began.

He spun and glared down at her, and his hand shot out to grab her by the collar. "Shut up, dumbass," he growled. "You don't wanna call me that."

Her eyes widened in fear. "Sorry! I'm sorry, Jaggerjaques-san!" she cried. He let her go and she staggered. Then she looked up at him more humbly. "I just… well, everyone says you're the man to see if someone wants anything around this school."

"Huh. What's that supposed to mean, eh?" he said, slamming his locker shut with ferocity.

Rukia drew closer, lowered her voice. "Everyone says you're… a member."

Grimmjow snorted and started moving down the hall, Rukia following. "You look too smart to believe what everyone says."

"No, really, Jaggerjaques…" Rukia's voice was pleading now. "I really need some money. Couldn't I help you out sometime? I'd make a good courier because of my size – no one suspects a little girl. And you know I can fight," she said.

He stopped and turned to face her, looking her up and down. "Yeah," he admitted grudgingly. "You can fight." Suddenly his face was split by a grin. "You sure stomped that asshole Kurosaki."

She grinned back, squaring her shoulders. "Yeah. Bet he didn't like getting kicked by a girl half his size." They shared a complicit look, connected by their mutual disgust for Kurosaki.

Then Grimmjow moved away. "All right, Kuchiki. I'll think about it… and see what I can do."

Her face lit up. "Thanks, Jaggerjaques. You won't regret it, I swear."

_Yeah_, Grimmjow thought as he walked away, thinking of how he would make his report later that afternoon. _I sure won't regret it. But you will. Everyone regrets getting tangled up with that bastard Aizen, sooner or later. You just don't know what you're getting into._

XxXxXxX

Orihime sighed as she placed the straw star on top of her small Christmas tree and stood back to eye it critically. She always decorated a miniature tree every year, just as she and Sora used to do back when he was still alive. It always made her sad, and this year was no exception.

She blinked back tears because she would be alone again this year, as she almost always was at Christmas. Having no family, she had become accustomed to celebrating the holiday alone, but this year she had hoped, for once, that she would be able to spend it together with someone she loved.

"I'm terribly sorry, Orihime," Aizen had said, profound regret filling his brown eyes as he gazed at her. "I would like nothing more than to spend the holiday with you. But you yourself asked me to leave Hueco Mundo. You must surely know that if I don't plan my departure carefully, they will kill me," he said bluntly, watching as she lowered her eyes.

Yes. It was all her fault, she had realized. She had asked him to leave the gang, and in her heart she had known it would be dangerous. Should she have asked for something that could risk his life? And yet... could she live with him, knowing the activities he was involved in? She could not avoid the conclusion that he was involved with Breakdown somehow, although she had not dared to ask him point-blank if the drug synthesis was what Hueco Mundo was paying him for. She had recently visited Kurosaki's clinic and had seen first-hand the ravages Breakdown was wreaking on so many people. She wondered if Aizen were aware of the effects of Breakdown on its addicts.

Then she turned her mind away from that thought as well. She could imagine Aizen coolly saying, "Drug abuse is a victimless crime, Orihime. People choose to ingest chemicals for their own reasons." In her mind's eye, she could see the uncaring expression on his face if she brought the subject up. She knew now that he acted compassionate only when it was convenient to him. As she got to know him more, he was revealing his true beliefs on many subjects to her. He tended to blame victims for crimes perpetrated on them; he truly believed that the weak did not deserve aid, that developing strength was merely a matter of will, and that those who lacked willpower deserved only scorn.

Yes. She had to admit to herself that she knew all too well what he was likely doing for the gang. She was glad he was stopping, was leaving it behind for her… but she shuddered to think about what the gang would do if he refused to continue. It was a terrible dilemma. She wanted him to stop, but she knew that with this request, she was putting him at risk. From everything she had heard of Hueco Mundo, she knew the gang was completely ruthless. She felt guilt flood over her. It seemed there were no good solutions. She had looked down, away from his eyes.

"I will have to spend the winter vacation laying the groundwork for my 'retirement' from Hueco Mundo, Orihime," Aizen had continued. "I'm sorry that I won't be with you, but this is really the best opportunity I have to finish things up cleanly and safely."

She nodded, biting her lip and turning away. He took her hand and smiled at her then. "But don't worry. When this is all over we'll be together again, and I'll be free of criminal entanglements just as you wished."

She continued to look away. "Yes," she whispered. "I understand, Sousuke. It's for the best. But..." she raised her eyes back to his. "Please be careful."

He smiled reassuringly, all his warmth and charm visible in his eyes. "Don't worry. I have everything all planned out. We'll both be safe, as long as you stick with the precautions I've laid out for you."

With his words, her heart chilled further. It hadn't even occurred to her previously that she herself might be in danger from the gang. But of course there was a risk, now that Hueco Mundo knew she was connected with Sousuke. She had at first pooh-poohed his security precautions, but eventually he had convinced her to follow them.

So she was spending most of the holiday holed up in her small apartment. She sighed and moved to the stereo system he had given her, slipped in a CD. As the music began to fill the room with its warmth, she felt slightly more comforted. At least she had music to keep her company.

And it was not as if this Christmas were different from any other...

XxXxXxX

The door to the teachers' lounge opened, and Tousen entered, holding a smaller youth by the scruff of his neck. He gave the youth a vicious push, and the boy staggered and fell to his knees. He was gaunt and pale, with deep shadows under his bloodshot eyes, his hair damp from sweat, and his body shaking with tremors.

Aizen sat at the other end of the room, lounging in his white armchair. He watched with amusement as Tousen hauled the boy up again, shoved him forward, and then kicked the backs of his knees so that he fell to the ground again.

Aizen's gaze focused on the hapless youth. "Why, Luppi, you don't look very happy to see me." He rested his chin on his knuckles and smiled faintly.

The boy crawled forward on his hands and knees, whimpering. Approaching Aizen's chair, he groveled on the floor before him. "Aizen-sama," he whined, prostrating himself before the other teen. "Please…" he begged.

"Really, you should demonstrate more joy at seeing the one person who can give you true happiness," Aizen continued.

Luppi inhaled raggedly and pushed himself halfway up on his hands and knees, turning his face up toward Aizen. On his face was a distorted grimace that might have passed for an attempt at a smile. "Oh, yessss, Aizen-sama, I'm so very happy to see you…" His voice broke. "I'm so grateful to you, Aizen-sama."

Aizen looked down at the youth, eyes gleaming. Tousen was standing back from the boy, his face twisting in disgust as he watched him grovel. Aizen glanced up at him. "Leave us, Kaname." His lips quirked with amusement. "I think I'll be safe with Luppi today."

The dark-skinned youth bowed his head, and left the room without a word.

Alone with the younger boy, Aizen regarded him thoughtfully. "You're probably wondering why I called you here today, Luppi. Do you have any ideas what I might want from you?"

"You… you want me to do something for you, Aizen-sama. Like before. I said before, I'll do anything for you," the boy whimpered, his eyes on the man sitting tall in the chair above him. "Only, please, can't I have just one hit…" He trailed off as Aizen's face darkened.

"What have I told you before, Luppi? You don't get your reward until after the job is done, and done well. It displeases me that you're asking even before I've told you what I want you to do." His voice was light. "It makes me think that you're not sufficiently eager to please me."

"Oh, no, no, Aizen-sama, all I want is to please you," moaned the boy. "Please, tell me what you want me to do."

Aizen's eyes glittered with pleasure as the youth continued to stammer and plead in an abject tone of voice. "That's better, Luppi."

He crossed his legs, leaned back in the chair. His lips turned upward at the corners as his eyes narrowed slightly. "Have you ever heard of a company called Hirako Pharmaceuticals?"

XxXxXxX

It had been a long couple of weeks alone, and Orihime was starting to feel that she would go crazy from all the solitude. Suddenly, there was a pounding on the door, and her heart lurched in her chest. Aizen had given her strict orders not to open the door without checking who it was first.

Tentatively, she moved to the peephole and looked through it. She stiffened with fear, her heart pounding. It was Grimmjow Jaggerjaques, one of the leaders of Hueco Mundo. What could he be doing at her apartment? Aizen had been right to warn her; now they were indeed coming after her.

But as she looked through the peephole further, she became puzzled. Grimmjow was hunched over, one hand wrapped around his upper arm. She could hear his gasping breath through the door.

"Inoue-san," he called through the door. His voice was weak, as though he were in extreme pain. "Hey, can you let me in?"

She said nothing, wringing her hands in indecision.

"I know you're in there, Inoue-san. Please..." his voice trailed off. "I'm not going to hurt you. I need your help." There was a long pause. "You're one of us now; can you please help me? I'm… injured… I've been shot."

She gasped and looked through the peephole more closely. Yes, she could see the blood seeping out from around his fingers. Could it be a trick? Well, she decided, she would take that risk. He needed help and she had to provide it. After all, he had helped her once. She owed him.

She opened the door and he staggered in, collapsed on the couch. "Thanks, Inoue-san," he said, trying to grin up at her in his old, insouciant way, but it ended up looking more like a grimace of pain.

Her eyes widened as she saw the size of the bloodstain on his clothes, leaking out around the hand he kept tightly pressed around his left arm. "What happened, Jaggerjaques-san?"

He grimaced. "Goddamn assholes were chasing me; one of them winged me." He leaned back, his eyes closing as weakness seemed to flood over him. "I'm not sure who they were or how they found out where I was; must've been a leak somewhere..." His voice sounded almost petulant for a moment, confused. "I've been hiding out overnight, just waiting till I could come here; knew you could help me."

"You've lost a lot of blood, and you're going to lose more. You need to go to the hospital."

His eyes opened abruptly and he glared at her with panic in his gaze. "No! No hospitals..." Then his voice trailed off and he slumped back in the seat. "No... they'd arrest me for sure then; don't you understand?" His voice sharpened with urgency. "Just... let me stay here for one night... recover..."

She looked at him with frantic concern. "But I can't take care of you... I don't know how..."

"S'easy," he muttered. "I'll teach you. Gotta bullet in my arm... you just gotta take it out." His eyes flickered open, then shut again. "I... can give you instructions..."

She stood up, panic flooding her chest. There was no way she could remove a bullet from his arm. She wasn't a nurse, had never even volunteered in a clinic. She cast her mind around for someone who might have knowledge that could help him. "Kurosaki... you need to go to his clinic... he could help you."

Grimmjow opened one eye, some of his old irony returning to him. "You gotta be kidding, Inoue. Kurosaki would never do anything for the likes of me."

She shook her head. "You're wrong. He would help anybody. The Kurosaki Clinic doesn't turn anyone away."

"No." Grimmjow slumped again, eyes closing. "They'd call it in to the cops for sure. I'd be dead meat." His head lolled to one side. Alarmed, she put her hand on his forehead. He was burning up with fever. The bullet wound must be becoming infected, she guessed.

But what could she do? She went to the bathroom, looking back at him with a worried glance; got scissors and a washcloth down from the shelf; ran hot water on the towel. Returning, she saw that he was slumped unconscious on her couch. She carefully cut away the sleeve on his shirt to expose the wound, planning to clean it with the cloth. She hissed in dismay. The edges of the hole were jagged and inflamed; his arm was swollen, angry and red around the wound and a slight discoloration was showing around the edges. Even to her untrained eye, she could recognize the signs of infection and blood poisoning. The last bit of worry that this had all been a trap to get him inside her apartment evaporated. He had been telling the truth. Grimmjow was going to die unless she got him some care.

She stood up, resolute. It didn't matter what he said, she was going to call the hospital. But with his good arm, Grimmjow reached up and grasped her arm tightly, as though he knew what she was going to do. "No!" His voice was weaker but the will in it was fierce. "Don't tell anyone! Don't you realize you'd be signing my death warrant?"

She looked at him in an agony of indecision. "But Jaggerjaques-san, you're going to die anyway without treatment," she pointed out.

"S'okay," he said. "You can take the bullet out. I've done it before myself. You just need a sharp knife... and some boiling water... you got that, right?"

Hesitantly, she nodded.

"Okay then. Here's what you do." His voice started out faint but strengthened as he continued with his instructions. "You sterilize the knife with boiling water. Then you dig it into the wound and flip the bullet out. Nothing to it." He exhaled with a racking sound she realized was meant to be a laugh. "You should get a bowl, something to catch the bullet in, keep all the blood from wrecking your nice couch."

She stared at him again, and then realized she had to help him. She couldn't let him die, even though he was likely to be her enemy once he realized that Aizen was trying to leave the gang. Even though, for all she knew, it had been Aizen or one of his allies who had shot him. The conflict had begun in Hueco Mundo, likely due to actions Aizen had taken, and it was going to be bloody no matter what. But Orihime could not turn down a request for help.

She went to the kitchen and started boiling the water. She was terrified of what she was going to do, but resolved. She could not let anyone, even an enemy, die. She would do whatever it took to heal him. She felt determination firm her movements as she gathered her equipment, tested the keenness of her best kitchen knife, and prepared to dip it in the boiling water.

She laid everything out on a tray, brought it back to the couch where Grimmjow lay, now restlessly muttering to himself.

"All right," she said to him, her voice surprising her with its firmness. "I'm ready to take the bullet out of your arm now, Jaggerjaques-san. Are you ready?"

She saw him steel himself, saw his eyes go hard as he nodded. "Yes. I'm ready."

Carefully, she removed the makeshift bandage she had so recently wrapped around his arm. It was soaked with blood. Grimmjow winced as she moved it but said nothing. She wrapped a strip of cloth around his upper arm to temporarily stave off more bleeding, and then gave him another washcloth. He clenched it between his teeth, and then nodded to her.

Gritting her teeth, she moved the knife in her hand closer to his arm. He had given her instructions and although she felt faint, she was determined to do this right. Quickly, she brought the knife to the wound; probed quickly, felt it hit the hard object within. Grimmjow was grunting into the cloth, eyes rolled back in his head in pain. With a movement that was surprisingly sure, she shifted the angle of the knife, dug in further and with a deft flip of her wrist, scooped the bullet out. It clanged into her metal bowl along with more blood, mercifully kept from spurting thanks to the tourniquet around his arm.

Grimmjow gasped, then his eyes rolled up in his head and he passed out. Orihime carefully cleaned the wound with hot water and then rebandaged it; her hands rock steady now, as though she had somehow tapped into some innate healing gift within herself, some source of strength that was greater than her own.

She gently brought a cool cloth to Grimmjow's forehead. The fever was still there, but somehow, she knew it would break now. She knew deep in her bones that he would be all right, that he would be feeling better by the next morning. But for now, the fever still had him in its grip. It would keep him there until he had a little more time to recover. He moaned, restless and urgent.

"Tell... the Captain..." he muttered, turning his head back and forth feverishly.

"Shhh," she cautioned. "Be quiet now and rest."

"No!" His eyes opened briefly in a moment of lucidity. "S'important... you gotta tell the Captain that... Gin's... turned traitor..." His breath came in harsh gasps and he could hardly get the words out, but he forced them out as though desperate, his eyes locked on hers in a feverish haze. "And I think Nnoitra too. He needs to know..." His eyes closed again and he slumped back, losing consciousness.

Orihime stared down at him in dismay. Tell the Captain? It seemed that there was a civil war going on in Hueco Mundo. What did this have to do with Aizen's 'retirement plan'? And why would Grimmjow think she had any way to contact the 'Captain' of Hueco Mundo, if that was whom he was referring to? What was going on? Surely the Captain, whoever he was, would not take kindly to Aizen's departure... Did that mean Grimmjow was for certain on the side opposite from Aizen? But what Grimmjow was saying sounded like a warning… and why was he telling her? She shook her head in frustration.

She felt a burning desire to talk to Aizen rise up within her, to ask him for help, but he had been very clear in his instructions.

"Do not attempt to contact me under any circumstances, Orihime," Aizen had cautioned her. "There will be a trace on my phone and it is crucial that you not be seen as in contact with me. For your own protection, I'm going to distance myself from you, make it seem that I am no longer interested in you. That way, if there is any... reaction... to my departure from Hueco Mundo, it will be deflected from you."

She settled back down on her heels, looking at the unconscious Grimmjow. What was really going on? And who, after all, was the Captain?

As she rubbed her hand over her face, there was a knock at the door.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

(Originally posted 4/24/2011.)

XxXxXxX

There was another set of taps on her door. Nervously glancing at the man with a gunshot wound now passed out on her couch, Orihime ran to the peephole. At the sight of the person on the other side, she gave a huge gasp of relief and threw the door open.

It was Aizen.

His hair was disheveled and there were shadows under his eyes, but he smiled at her and her heart leaped up as always, her mind conveniently forgetting all the suspicions and worries she had had while he was gone. She threw herself into his arms.

"Sousuke! I've missed you so much!"

"And I've missed you, Orihime." He gently detached himself from her and closed the door behind him. Moving into the room, his eyes instantly went to Grimmjow lying on the couch. His voice turned cold and hard. "What is he doing here?"

"Oh, he came to my door with a bullet wound, can you believe it?" Orihime fluttered her hands anxiously and gave a nervous laugh, speaking rapidly. "I know what you said about not letting anyone in, so I went to the peephole, and I was going to pretend I wasn't there, but then he said he knew I was in here, and he said he had a bullet in his arm, and all he wanted was for me to help him, and—"

Aizen cut off her babbling by holding a long finger over her lips, his face now showing mild amusement. "Orihime," he sighed. "What have I told you about being far too trusting?" He strode to the couch and looked down at the unconscious Grimmjow, eyes scanning the bandage on the blue-haired man's upper arm.

"What story did he feed you?" Aizen's eyes were narrowed and his expression was icy as he gazed at the Espada on the couch.

"But it was true!" Orihime insisted. "He'd really been shot."

Aizen turned back to look at her, his expression still suspicious. "Did he say who did it?"

"He was kind of delirious. He started talking about Gin and Nnoitra being traitors, so maybe it was one of them?"

"Hmm." Aizen looked thoughtful at that piece of information. "Well, that is quite interesting. It seems I'll have to talk to him after all. That bullet wound might need care," he added idly, his fingers going to the edge of the bandage on Grimmjow's arm. The blue-haired man stirred restlessly at his touch, moaning.

Orihime continued with a look of defiance in her eyes, "I had to take the bullet out of his arm myself."

Aizen glanced back at her, his eyebrows raised. "You did? Impressive. I didn't think you had any medical training."

Orihime blushed. "Well, I don't."

"You should consider becoming a doctor then." He was carefully unwrapping the bandage on Grimmjow's arm, inspecting the bullet wound. He looked up at her. "This was a good job."

"It's still infected," she said.

"But I can see the swelling is going down. Did you pour alcohol on it?" At her nod, he gave her a glance of approval. "Good. I left a first-aid kit in your bathroom. Why don't you get an antibiotic out of there?"

She nodded and left to comply with his instructions. She had already taken out the antibiotic pills earlier, thinking to give one to Grimmjow when he woke up, so it only took her a few seconds to return to the living room. When she did, she saw that Aizen had already awakened Grimmjow and was speaking to him in a low voice.

"But, Captain—" Grimmjow was objecting weakly when she came in. She stopped, stunned. What had he just said? She felt as though a cold wave of water had washed over her. Her legs felt weak and she swayed, wondering if she were going to be able to stay on her feet. Did he really just address Aizen as "Captain"? Was that why Grimmjow had been saying to her, "Tell the Captain"? She had wondered why he would have ever thought she might be able to contact the Captain of Hueco Mundo. Had Aizen been lying to her, again, all this time…? But no. Aizen couldn't be the Captain. It was just not possible… or was it? As she stared at them in complete shock, the two men looked over at her, Grimmjow's face showing panic, Aizen's neutral as always.

"No—" she said, her hands coming up in front of her in unconscious defense.

Aizen rose to greet her, smiling, one hand out to take the medicine. "Thanks for the antibiotic. Grimmjow was just telling me some details of the Captain's latest plans," he said smoothly. "I hope you understand that this information is quite confidential."

She looked at him, her eyes wide, as he took the antibiotic from her boneless hand. All she could think of was how good he was at lying. How well-crafted his cover personality of the harmless nerd was. Her mind whirled back over everything he had told her about the gang. He had never seemed afraid of them, she realized, unlike every single other person who had mentioned Hueco Mundo to her. As a matter of fact, whenever he had spoken to her of the gang, he always seemed confident that they would act exactly as he expected. In the back of her mind, she had always thought that something seemed off. She realized that she had been thinking for some time now that he didn't act like someone who performed tasks or ran errands for a dangerous criminal gang.

He acted like he was in command.

She had written it off as his personality, his supreme self-confidence. No. She had lied to herself, pulled the wool over her own eyes because she hadn't wanted to admit that her boyfriend was the kind of person who could be a leader of a murderous criminal gang. She hadn't wanted to admit to herself that her lover could be so ruthless, that the man she loved could have such a black heart.

"No…" she said again.

Aizen looked at her, the pills in his hand forgotten. He could see her new understanding in her eyes, and his heart pounded even as his face expressed only mild puzzlement. "What's wrong, Orihime?" he asked in a gentle voice.

"No... it can't be…" she whispered.

He approached her and took her in his arms, feeling her stiff, shaking body tremble in his. She had gone completely pale. "Come," he said in a reassuring tone. "Sit down on the couch here. You look like you're going to faint." One corner of his mouth twitched up in a wry smile. "I know it can be rather disconcerting to have a man with a bullet wound end up on your living room couch."

She sat, unable to resist, and leaned against him. He stroked her hair gently. "Shall I make you some tea, Orihime?" He let her lean back against the couch and stood up. "Grimmjow, why don't you tell us what happened while I make tea?"

Obediently, the blue-haired man struggled to a semi-reclining position as Aizen moved to the kitchen. Staring at Orihime's wide-eyed, pale face, he began. "Uh, yeah, it was last night that I was on a raid for— for the Captain. Everything's been kind of in upheaval lately. I was just casing the building when I spotted Ichimaru. He wasn't supposed to be there, and he didn't see me, was just heading off in the other direction." Grimmjow stopped to take a few ragged breaths, and closed his eyes. When he began again, his voice was fainter, but he continued doggedly on. "It made me suspicious… why was he there without orders?" He opened his eyes again, checked on Aizen's location in the kitchen. "Ichimaru had made some disloyal comments about, uh, the Captain a few weeks ago so I'd been wondering about him anyway. I decided to try following him.

"It was dark and raining and pretty hard to see where he was going. But eventually, I saw him enter the 9th Street warehouse." He glanced at Aizen through the pass-through window. "The, uh, Captain has prohibited us from going there this week due to some activity from another gang. But Ichimaru went in, and as I stood watching there, I saw another man who stood there for a while, looking around nervously. Then he entered through the side door of the warehouse." He lifted his eyes to Aizen's and raised his voice slightly. "The other man was Toshiro Hitsugaya." He glanced sidelong at Orihime. "You know, the narc."

As he finished speaking, the tea kettle began its characteristic warbling whistle that indicated that the water was boiling. "Then, I saw Nnoitra, waiting in the shadows there, just watching. Ichimaru's turning on us," he added, his voice harsh and angry. "I don't know about Nnoitra. I was going to wait for Ichimaru and Hitsugaya to come out, but just then—someone shot me from behind. I never saw them." He closed his eyes, remembering the sudden pain. "So I ducked behind some garbage in the alley and waited, trying to get a bead on whoever did it. But I couldn't see them. Then I started worrying I was going to pass out from the blood loss and they'd be able to finish the job, so I left to find a hidey-hole where I could wait it out until the next day." He was breathing rapidly and shallowly, but continued doggedly on. "When I woke up, I realized I was near Inoue-san's apartment from our previous mis- I mean, from, uh… anyway, I knew it was near. I knew my arm had become infected. I thought I'd ask her for help since we'd been told she was a member now. I didn't know where else to go." He looked as apologetic as someone with a face as brash as his could get.

Orihime watched Aizen's expression to see how he would react to Grimmjow's tale. But he remained outwardly calm as he took the kettle and began pouring water over the tea infusers.

Grimmjow continued, panting slightly as though his description of his actions had almost been beyond his strength. "Ichimaru's a traitor, Aizen-sa-, uh, Aizen-san."

Aizen returned to the living room with three teacups steeping on a tray, and set it on the coffee table. "Grimmjow, just because Ichimaru spends a little time talking with a narc doesn't make him a traitor." His voice was reassuring as he sat down next to Orihime.

Grimmjow looked skeptical. "In the 9th Street warehouse? Where we've been specifically prohibited from going?" Aizen handed him a teacup and Grimmjow put it to his lips.

"There are many possible reasons why he could have been doing that." Aizen set down his tea and his voice was reasonable as he ticked off points on his slender fingers. "He could have been on special orders from the Captain. He could have been gathering information. He could have been trying to suborn Hitsugaya." He smiled as he sipped from his teacup. "Grimmjow, you're jumping to conclusions here. I'm sure Ichimaru's loyalty is not in question."

Grimmjow shook his head weakly but stubbornly. "But after what he said before, I'd watch out for Ichimaru if I were you."

Aizen looked at him, amusement showing in his voice. "Grimmjow, since when have you been so solicitous of my welfare? Haven't you and I frequently been at odds?" He smiled at the blue-haired man over his teacup.

Grimmjow harrumphed in his throat. "You know I've always been loyal," he responded. His eyes slid over to Orihime, still staring at him with huge eyes. "Loyal to Hueco Mundo, that is," he added. "We both are," he said, looking a bit confused as the fever hazed his eyes. He suddenly looked very tired, and lowered his cup.

Aizen took it from his hand gently as Grimmjow slumped over and slid back into sleep, emitting a very loud snore.

Orihime would have laughed, but she was also finding herself very sleepy. She yawned widely and then was surprised at herself, as she had thought the adrenaline rush from the earlier revelation would be keeping her awake for a long time. Aizen was watching her over the rim of his teacup, his deep brown eyes focused on hers.

She gave a long sigh and leaned back on the couch, closing her eyes. She felt Aizen's warm fingers taking the cup from hers. She mumbled something, and he murmured in response. "Hush. You're tired and need to rest." She felt herself being lifted, carried into the bedroom and gently tucked into bed. For some reason, it reminded her of when she was very small and Sora would tuck her in bed, and she mumbled again. But she could no longer think coherently, and the last thing she remembered was the comforting touch of Aizen's hand as he folded the blankets over her.

XxXxXxX

Aizen looked down at Orihime, lying peacefully asleep in her bed, her hair spread across the pillow, her face blessedly relaxed now, no longer filled with that soul-wrenching doubt and agony— doubt about _him_. He turned away from her suddenly, his face twisting since no one could see it. Pain tore at his heart; the kind of pain he had rarely felt before. The agony that he might lose her burned in him.

Slipping a knockout drug into both of their teas had been overkill; rather inelegant of him, he thought ruefully. But when he had seen the look in Orihime's eyes after Grimmjow had made that clumsy slip and called him Captain in front of her… he had, uncharacteristically, panicked. He had only wanted to get Grimmjow, the foolish oaf, away from Orihime as soon as possible, by any means possible... but without damaging himself in Orihime's eyes any further.

Still, he had almost killed the man right there in front of her, he had been so furious at Grimmjow's audacity. How dare he come to Orihime's apartment, _his_ Orihime's apartment, and ask her to heal him, and then on top of it all, break security? Aizen's eyes narrowed. Grimmjow would be punished, and punished severely, for his transgressions.

He went back to the other room, took out his cell phone. He called one of the low-level gang members, ordered him to pick up Grimmjow and take him to the clubhouse, keep him locked up. He would decide what to do with him later.

He returned to Orihime's bedroom, sat down on the bed beside her. And there, where no one could see, he put his head in his hands.

He had always been so successful at hiding his emotions, at convincing others that he felt nothing. And indeed, he no longer felt any remorse at killing his enemies, at making those who opposed him suffer. But the truth was that certain of his emotions had turned out to be so deep, so wracking, that he knew if he released them, they would overwhelm him. Only his iron control, honed since his early childhood, could keep them at bay. He had long ago learned never to show what he truly felt on his face. It was to his advantage to be thought of as an emotionless bastard.

He looked again at Orihime, her lips gently parted, her lashes brushing her cheeks. He knew, with his knowledge of human nature, how she would react when she finally truly admitted to herself that he was the "Captain" of Hueco Mundo. She would be in denial for a little longer, but eventually she would realize the truth. She was intelligent, even if naïve.

He sighed; then he stretched out on the bed full-length, facing her as she slept. He ran his hands through her warm hair, stroked her cheeks gently with his thumbs, and she half-turned into his touch, murmuring. He thought he heard his name on her lips, and he leaned forward to kiss those lips, gently. They were warm and soft, and a smile began to spread over his face as a few new ideas struck him. No, it was not yet time to give up hope. The game was still not over.

It was still possible that he could spin the story so that she would accept it. There was an outside chance that he could lie about what he had done as the Captain, that he could convince her that he wasn't as bad as the Captain's reputation made him seem. After all, she desperately wanted to believe in him, he knew. He had that advantage on his side.

He would just have to make sure that everything went as he planned from here on in. There would be no more inadvertent slipups like what happened with Grimmjow. It was time to place a guard on her, someone utterly loyal.

He picked up his cell phone, punched in another code. When the person on the other end answered, Aizen said, "Ulquiorra, I have a further assignment for you."

Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he wondered how Grimmjow would react when he finally learned who had shot him. He smiled to himself. He would use that as well.

XxXxXxX

The man in the black lab coat whistled tunelessly between his teeth as he carefully pipetted liquid into a large test tube clamped over a flaming Bunsen burner. He turned aside to make a small notation in the dog-eared lab notebook on the bench beside him. One of his clogs banged against the metal leg of the lab stool he was perched on, and he absently tilted his ankle up to keep it on his foot as he scratched the side of his head, considering. The latest experiment seemed to be yielding some good results. He looked back at the test tube and made another observation of the liquid within, noted it down.

He yawned, rubbed the back of his neck, and glanced at his watch. It was quite late. As chief scientist at Hirako Pharmaceuticals, it seemed that he was always working late. Not really what he had imagined when he first signed up for the job, but it seemed like all his experiments had been going wrong lately. First, there was the disastrous development of the Breakdown formula. Then, when he thought for sure he had destroyed it, it appeared that it had been stolen and was now being marketed on the streets. Just as he had feared, it was extremely addictive. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt that it was his work being used this way.

Yet he had to admit he was curious about its effects on the human body, how close it came to his original goal of developing a new type of anti-depressant. He almost wished at times that he had had more freedom to explore Breakdown's properties.

So when the man had called him asking for help, he had been unable to refuse.

"_Dr. Urahara?" came the ragged voice on the phone._

"_Speaking," said Urahara distractedly. He was thinking about his latest experiment and only listening with half an ear to the youth on the other end of the line._

"_I… have a favor to ask of you. And in return, I can do a favor for you."_

"_What? Who are you?" asked Urahara, puzzled and a little annoyed._

"_Who I am doesn't matter. What I am does. I'm a Breakdown addict, one of your victims, that is, and I need your help." The voice was scratchy, breathless._

_Urahara felt a chill in his heart. He had always worried that Breakdown would be traced to him, but he hadn't expected anything like this. "What makes you think I have anything to do with Breakdown?" he asked._

_The person on the other end of the line laughed. "Oh yeah, Dr. Urahara, I know all about your dirty little secret. How you developed Breakdown, and then tried to destroy the formula. I also know you've been continuing secret experiments with the drug."_

"_Those are wild accusations, young man."_

"_Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." The voice was simpering. "But I'm having problems with my supplier, and I thought you might be willing to help me, in return for me telling you who actually stole your formula, who's selling the drug now."_

_Urahara thought quickly. It was true that he had been desperately trying to find out how the formula could have been stolen. Shinji suspected it had been an inside job, but Urahara was convinced that someone had tapped into their computers from outside. As for the secret experiments… well, it was true that after news of the spread of Breakdown and its addictive nature spread, Urahara had started working with the chemical again, hoping to find a non-addictive analogue, similar to the heroin substitute methadone. Of course this work was quite illegal, but Urahara thought that finding a method to stop the spread of the addiction was worth it. _

"_What are you looking for?" he asked cautiously._

"_Ahh… just what you're making now. A Breakdown substitute, that's not so addictive. You see, I want to get off this stuff. It's really bad for me."_

"_If I even had access to such a chemical, why should I give it to you?" Urahara's voice was blithe._

"_Because, you see, I can offer you something you don't have. A human subject." The voice fell silent._

"_Uh…" said Urahara, his mind whirling, "Human experiments are illegal, young man. I could never condone—"_

"_Look," said the other, desperation showing in his voice. "I've offended my supplier. You know what that means. I'm gonna die if I can't get more Breakdown or a substitute. So it's either volunteer for an experiment with you or die. If you don't help me, you've signed my death warrant."_

_There was a long pause while Urahara thought it over._

"_And there's more I can do for you," said the other man. "I told you I know who took the formula from your lab. I can give you proof. You see—" There was a long pause, and then a bitter note entered his voice as he continued. "The guy addicted me to Breakdown on purpose."_

"_Eh?" asked Urahara, his interest thoroughly piqued now. _

"_Yeah. He thinks he has me completely under his thumb." The bitterness was more pronounced now. "But after he told me what you were doing here, it occurred to me that you could give me a chance to get out from under him. And in return, I'll give you something you couldn't get anywhere else. What do you think?"_

_Urahara paused again. It was true; he had completed animal testing with his new analogue. He had done the safety testing, so he was fairly sure that the drug was ready for human testing. It was just that the paperwork too so long, getting all the tedious human subjects approvals and various other regulatory processes in place. It would speed up his work now to have a human subject. And if he could develop the analogue quickly, he could save many lives._

_He made the decision quickly, as he was wont to do. The end sometimes did justify the means._

"_All right," he said. "I accept your proposal. What do you want to do now?"_

"_Good," said the other with relief in his voice. "I'll see you at your lab tonight. Have a visitor badge ready for me. The name is Luppi Antenor."_

There was a knock at the lab door, and a youth appeared in the doorway as Urahara looked up. "Mr. Antenor?" he asked. His visitor was slight and pallid, with the signs of advanced Breakdown addiction visible to Urahara's expert eye. Bloodshot eyes, tremors, extreme pallor. Shaggy shoulder-length black hair fell in an unruly tangle over a dirty shirt collar as the kid sidled into the room, teeth bared in a rictus of a grin.

"Just call me Luppi." His watery eyes met Urahara's with desperation visible in them. "Your custom-made guinea pig has arrived."

XxXxXxX

Jinta stared in shock at the open file on his computer. He had just been playing around, trying a few of his uncle's old passwords he had found in his desk drawer, and had thought it might be fun to put one over on the old man. But as he looked over the text scrolling past his eyes, he swallowed nervously, his heart pounding. If this was what he thought it was, the old man was not the person he had thought him to be. In fact... he could be in big trouble.

He swallowed again, trying to decide what to do. This… was something bigger than he was used to handling. And after Tessai had been giving him a hard time about slacking off at work, not doing his homework, and petty shoplifting…

Jinta's mouth firmed in anger. Why, the hypocrite! If Jinta was right about what was going on here, Tessai, his uncle, and Shinji were all involved in some big time criminal activity. He knew Shinji had complained about the company not doing well financially, so maybe he had decided it was time to turn outside the law for funding.

The redhead closed his eyes. He now remembered a conversation of a few days ago, and it made so much more sense. Shinji had complained that finances were bad, and had said that he might have to "follow in DeLorean's footsteps." There had been general laughter from the other adults, Tessai, Urahara, and Hiyori, who were all sitting around the company break room with them.

When Jinta had demanded an explanation, after much laughter, Urahara had finally said that DeLorean was the founder of an auto manufacturer a few decades ago who had run into financial trouble while designing the innovative car he thought would take the world by storm.

"Yeah," added Shinji, grinning. "He made a car that was so fast, it could really _suck up the white line._" Everybody else broke up into helpless laughter, and annoyed, Jinta had demanded that they share the joke.

Urahara scratched his head as if unsure if he should explain something to delicate ears. Then he said, "They say that DeLorean entered into a drug deal, trying to move some large shipments of cocaine in order to get some quick cash to shore up his floundering car company."

"You're not serious about doing that here!" Jinta demanded, and the adults had exchanged glances.

"No, of course not, Jinta," said Shinji. "Besides, DeLorean ended up in jail."

"And his car was a piece of shit," added Hiyori with a snort.

Jinta had almost forgotten the discussion, writing it off as just another one of those old-timer in-jokes that the adults were fond of making around him. Remembering the conversation once again, his heart pounded. He stared at the chemical formulas scrolling across his screen. He needed to talk to someone. But who? Not Urahara, not the cops. He didn't want to get either himself or his uncle in trouble. Then he thought of his sister. He and Ururu were constantly at each others' throats, but when the chips were down, there was no one he could count on more. He slipped his cell phone out of his pocket.

"Ururu?" he said when she came on the line. "Please come to the second floor computer lab. I've got something important I want to show you…"

XxXxXxX

Luppi grinned up at Urahara as the latter, after drawing his blood and making a number of measurements, finally gave him the injection. "Ahhh," he sighed, his eyes closing as the drug hit his system. "That's _much_ better."

Urahara stood back from him, frowning. "So, okay. Your turn to talk." He moved to the bench and began scribbling notes in his book.

"So what do you want to know?" asked Luppi with an insouciant stare, relaxed now with the new drug flooding his system.

Urahara held back his impatience. "The name of the person who stole the formula."

Luppi smirked. "He's been right under your nose the whole time. Sousuke Aizen."

The shaggy-haired scientist frowned in disbelief. "No. That can't be."

"Why not?" asked Luppi. The black-haired youth sniffed loudly and then blew his nose noisily on his sleeve.

Urahara rolled his eyes and handed him a tissue. "That kid wouldn't put a toe out of line if you held him to the fire. I've never seen such a stickler for following the rules." Even to the extent of annoying Urahara at times; the man had never been one to slavishly obey regulations.

"But doesn't it make sense?" argued Luppi. "Who else had access to all your computer systems; who knew about the formula as soon as you discovered it?"

Urahara stared at him with increasing suspicion. "How do you know so much about all this and even who worked on the formula?" It was an unusual amount of knowledge for a street addict to come by.

Luppi gave him a sly smile. "I've been pretty close to Aizen for a while, and I have my sources. As well as audio recordings."

"Why haven't you gone to the police then?"

The youth drew himself up, offended. "What would the cops do for me? Throw me in the pokey? They wouldn't bother with the likes of me. Besides, you're the only one who has anything I really want." He leered at the older man and then simpered, indicating the injection site.

Urahara studied him, musing. It was true that Shinji had repeatedly voiced his suspicions of Aizen, claiming he kept the straight-A student around only to keep tabs on him. He kept him close but refused to get friendly with him. He had refused to invite Aizen to his home, although he was friendly to just about everybody else in the company. And in fact, Urahara had occasionally thought that Aizen was just too squeaky-clean to be for real. But for the unassuming student to actually have stolen the formula? That just didn't make sense.

"Why did he do it?" asked Urahara.

Luppi shrugged. "Why else? For money. Lots of profits there."

Yes. Money was certainly always a motivator. Urahara sighed. That was one desire, the passionate need for money, which he had never had and could never really understand. Of course, Luppi could be lying. Urahara certainly didn't trust him. But it was an idea worth thinking about. He could certainly start looking in Aizen's files. As Aizen's supervisor, he had full access to everything Aizen put on the computer, although the youth was probably not aware of this. It certainly would make sense to go poking around and see what he could find.

"So," he said to Luppi, "show me your proof."

XxXxXxX

"See?" Jinta pointed out the next file to Ururu. She was sitting beside him on a lab stool as they both huddled over the computer screen. Her brows were drawn down in worry, and she tugged absently at her pink-and-white t-shirt as she read the words on the screen.

"I don't know, Jinta," she said, hesitant.

"Look," said Jinta, much more confident now in the presence of his sister. "It's really clear that Uncle Kisuke and Hirako-san are working together here to make some illicit chemical. And they're working with that prig Aizen. You can see all the evidence here in black and white!"

She looked up at him, her large dark purple eyes anxious, the two strands of her bangs hanging in between them. "I don't know…" she repeated, twisting the end of one of her ponytails around a finger. "What are we going to do? Is Uncle going to be arrested? Do you really want to get Uncle in trouble? And Hirako-san?"

Suddenly it hit Jinta. "You're right," he said, pounding his fist decisively into his open palm. "We don't have enough to talk to the police or to Uncle. We need to do more research. Gather sufficient evidence. Like detectives, or private eyes," he said, warming to his subject now. "Here's what we do," he said triumphantly. "We tail them!"

Ururu looked aghast. "Tail them? What if we get caught?"

The redhead waved one hand dismissively. "Aw, Uncle would never hurt us, Ururu."

"If he's involved with a drug deal," she pointed out, "he's likely dealing with people who wouldn't hesitate to kill a couple of kids who poked their noses into the wrong place."

"Naw." Jinta was sure of himself now. "Uncle would keep them under control. Look, it seems that Sousuke Aizen is their link to the gang at Karakura High. Now does that guy look dangerous to you?" He put his hands on his hips and glared at his sister.

She frowned thoughtfully. "Nooo," she said, pursing her lips. "He just seems like a nice guy." Then her lips firmed. "But if he's working with a gang, then he's our enemy." She turned to Jinta, and her eyes were like steel. "We've got to defeat him."

"Then we're agreed," said Jinta with satisfaction. "We'll tail Aizen when he leaves the building after work, find out what he's up to."

XxXxXxX

"Wait," said Hirako to Luppi. The company owner was sitting in the lab across from Luppi and Urahara, with Tessai perched silently on a stool behind them. Urahara had called them in and told them the youth had some interesting information for them. "Are you sayin' that Aizen's involved with this high school gang, that he's actually usin' lab facilities to synthesize this drug and passin' it to them for distribution?" His usually careless face was filled with a sudden, burning outrage. "_Our _company's bein' used for this?"

Luppi gave Hirako a sly grin. "Yeah. He's been doing it right under your noses for all this time." He stretched elaborately and gave an all-too-casual yawn. "I'd be pissed if I were you. He's making a lotta money off of your facilities. Not to mention how illegal it all is. Plus," he smirked as he looked down at his nails, "looks like he's paying your niece and nephew to act as couriers."

Urahara surged off his seat. "What?" He moved to stand over the black-haired youth, his face dark and menacing now. "No. You're lying."

Luppi lolled back in his seat, grinning. "Nope," he said. "Gospel truth. Check the files there if you want proof." He gestured at the computer on the lab table.

Frowning, Urahara moved to the computer and began typing away. Several windows opened up on-screen, and text and figures began scrolling up over the monitor. Tessai and Hirako moved to watch over Urahara's shoulders, and there was silence in the room for several minutes.

Finally, "Damn it," said Urahara. "He's right." His voice was low and furious. "They've somehow gotten Ururu and Jinta involved. That just goes too far." He looked over at Hirako and Tessai. "We've got to do something about this."

Hirako shook his head in angry disbelief. "We can't go to the police. They're usin' our facilities, and _your_ relatives," he said to Urahara, who nodded slowly. "We'd be implicated fer sure. We hafta figger somethin' else out."

There was silence for a moment, while Urahara gradually began to look more thoughtful. "I have an idea. But it would involve tracking Aizen to wherever he meets with his suppliers." He looked at the other two men. "It's gonna be dangerous." Glancing at Luppi, he added, "You can leave now if you want. Thanks for your help, but you probably don't want to get involved."

Luppi grinned. "Yeah, guess I better. I don't like the sound of that. Well, you know how to reach me if you need me." He sauntered out the door.

Tessai frowned after the youth had left the room. "Do you trust him?"

"No," said Urahara, "but I've been able to independently confirm everything he's told me. I think we can act on his information—and we'll need to move quickly if we want to save Ururu and Jinta."

Tessai glanced from the set face of each man to the other. Then he moved to a locked drawer under one of the lab tables. Withdrawing a key from his pocket, he unlocked the drawer and drew out three small but deadly-looking guns. "These aren't registered," he cautioned, "so make sure you're not caught with them." He held them out to the other men.

Slowly, Hirako nodded. "Yeah. It'll be dangerous." Then a ferocious grin split his face, exposing his gums. "But we're gonna make it dangerous for them too." He took one of the guns from Tessai, broke it open casually to check it. On seeing it was loaded, he gave a smirk of angry satisfaction and slid the gun into his waistband. He looked up at the others. "When do we start?"


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

(Originally posted 4/29/2011.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime pulled her schoolbooks out from her locker in a daze. Since yesterday morning, she had been in agony. She had awakened, groggy and sluggish, to an empty apartment and a note from Aizen, saying that he would make sure Grimmjow received proper treatment. She had felt sick, but hadn't been able to contact him again. She still couldn't believe that her sweet and affectionate boyfriend might turn out to be the fearsome "Captain" of Hueco Mundo. Surely there must be some mistake, she thought for the hundredth time. No, she said to herself, he couldn't be the Captain. Both he and Grimmjow had denied it, after all. But she needed to talk to him. It was almost as though he were avoiding her, she thought.

She turned away from her locker and gave a sharp intake of breath as she almost ran straight into Gin Ichimaru, who was standing right behind her.

"Oh! Ichimaru-san! I'm so sorry!" she apologized, trying to move around him.

He put up an arm to block her, smiling his creepy smile as always. "Awww, Orihime-chan, no need to apologize, 'specially since we're such close friends. I hope ya had a wonderful time on winter break." He brought his face up close to hers, and Orihime shuddered involuntarily. "'Sides, I got somethin' important ta tell ya." He grinned even more widely.

"What is it?" asked Orihime, feeling disturbed. Ichimaru always made her nervous.

He leaned in to her so far that she had to move away so that his face wouldn't touch hers. Grinning, he whispered, "There's somethin' about your boyfriend that ya should know."

Orihime's heart pounded in her chest. "What?" she asked.

"Nah, I won't tell ya." He held up a hand to forestall her protest. "'Cause ya won't believe me. Better ta show ya directly."

"You're being really confusing," Orihime said.

He leaned in again, whispered. "I'd suggest ya go ta room B13 this afternoon at two o'clock. There's gonna be a meetin'. Ya might find out the answer ta yer questions there."

With a final careless grin, Ichimaru waved at her and walked off. "Bye-bye!" he called.

Orihime stood staring after him, wondering what was going on. Grimmjow had thought he was a traitor, but Aizen had dismissed Grimmjow's suspicion. Who knew more about what was going on in Hueco Mundo, Grimmjow or Aizen? At this point, nothing seemed certain to Orihime.

She sucked in her breath abruptly as a thought struck her. Ichimaru was supposed to know all sorts of secrets. Could he possibly know she was wondering whether Aizen was really the "Captain"? If so, then his cryptic comments began to make more sense. She shook her head. She was just barely getting a glimpse of all these complex machinations below the surface of daily life at Karakura High. And it had all started when she began to date Aizen, she thought with a wry twist of her lips. As she slammed her locker shut, she decided that she was going to follow up on Ichimaru's tip. It was time to find out what was going on.

XxXxXxX

Rukia stood at the doorway at the end of the hall, her heart pounding. This was it. Her big moment; her chance to infiltrate Hueco Mundo. It was all up to her and her wits now; she was going completely unarmed into what she had been told was the heart of gang territory.

_She had asked Grimmjow. "So what do you think? Can you get me in?"_

_Grimmjow had hemmed a bit. Then he straightened and looked at her, his face serious. "Well, I think I can get you an interview… but from that point on it'll be up to you. Are you sure you want to do this? If the Captain decides against you, he can order you killed right there where you stand."_

_Rukia swallowed. Then she looked up at Grimmjow with determination. "I'm sure. Just tell me when and where."_

Rukia took a deep breath, and then slowly turned the doorknob, walking into the shadowed room. A student was sitting in the darkness at the end of the dim room, and Rukia could not see his face.

Slowly, she approached the chair where the tall, thin student was lounging, a wide grin that showed all his teeth visible on his face. Greasy black hair hung past his shoulders, and his left eye was covered by an eyepatch.

"Sooo," he said with a leer, his eyes traveling up and down her body, "I hear you want to join our happy little family."

Rukia gritted her teeth inwardly as a wave of disgust ran through her. So this was the "Captain" of Hueco Mundo, the man responsible for so many deaths, for all the suffering caused by Breakout addiction, the man who had been pulling the strings behind the scenes and toying with all the police in the district. He was as unpleasant in person as she had imagined from all the rumors about him and his unsavory deeds. But she kept her face impassive and merely bowed her head. "Yes, sir."

"Hmmm." The man sneered and cocked his head at her. "So why should I let a little girl like you join us? We value strength and power. We have no room for a girl who's gonna need to put on lipstick or fix her hair every few minutes."

Rukia growled. She raised her eyes, now burning with anger, and glared at the lanky man in the chair. "I don't care who the fuck you are, you bastard, but I'm no _little girl_. I can fight better than most of your men and probably can lick you," she spat. "Just give me a chance to prove it and I'll show you." Her fists were on her hips and she stared straight into his eyes, which were on a level with hers even though she was standing and he was sitting.

There was a long silence while he stared at her, his grin fading slightly. She stood there, defiant, wondering whether she'd gone too far. She had thought she'd need to strike the right note of bravado to impress the gang leader, but had it been too much?

Then his grin widened. "So, the midget has spunk. Maybe you might be useful to us after all." The grin dropped away. "I'll give you a chance as you say. Your first assignment will be given to you later this week. If you accomplish it successfully, you'll proceed to the next step in the initiation." Then he grinned again, lasciviously. "Fail, and you'll be made a plaything for the Espada. Not that that wouldn't be fun too."

Rukia shivered but her defiant glare did not falter. "I won't fail."

"Good. We're always in need of competent members." He lifted a hand, gazed idly at his fingernails. "For some reason, too many of them keep dying on us." His grin widened. "You're dismissed."

Rukia spun on her heel, but then walked slowly and in a dignified manner to the door. She would not bow before this disgusting man.

And she would see him behind bars, she vowed to herself.

XxXxXxX

"Shhh!" Jinta cautioned loudly as he sidled into the company parking lot, with Ururu shadowing him silently. Although all the snow had melted, the air was still nippy. A high overcast of eggshell white hung over the city. A bright yellow sports car sat by itself in one corner of the lot. "That's Aizen's car," the redhead pointed out unnecessarily as Ururu nodded. The two youths approached the car, Jinta looking around furtively as they slunk behind the vehicle.

Jinta tried the door handle and crowed. "Success! Bastard forgot to lock his car." He preened himself. "Maybe I have a future as a private detective."

"Shhh!" This time it was Ururu's turn to hush her brother with a nervous, apologetic hiss.

He took a moment to glare at her before carefully sliding into the tiny slot behind the passenger seat. It was even colder inside the car than out in the open air, and the chilled leather covering of the seat made him shiver even as he squeezed into position. "Hmph," he grunted. "It's a good thing we're both pretty small. Ouch!" he complained as Ururu folded herself on top of him. "Geez, fatso, you really need to go on a diet. And here I thought you were good at hide and seek."

The tiny girl said nothing, only pulled herself further in and closed the car door.

Then the two of them waited in silence, crammed on top of each other in a spot that appeared to be too small to hold a human. They had just seen Aizen about to clock out; he had been speaking with Urahara about the final tasks of the day. He should be out at his car any moment now.

Then they heard soft footsteps and almost stopped breathing. Someone opened the car door and slid into the driver's seat. From where Jinta was lying, he could just barely catch a glimpse of wavy brown hair. The driver started the car and drove off, accelerating and decelerating rapidly as he drove through the city streets. Ururu was thrown on top of Jinta several times and he only barely managed to keep himself from grunting each time. Despite being small, she still felt heavy lying on top of him, and one of her elbows was poking into his ribs painfully.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, they slowed down, and pulled into what appeared to be a parking spot. The driver got out of the car and closed the door. They heard his footsteps fading off into the distance.

Ururu poked her head up over the edge, only to be yanked down by her brother. "Get down!" he hissed. Then he too poked his head up, staring out the window. "We're at Karakura High!" he whispered. "Aizen's heading off to the back door of the school. Let's go!"

The two youths unpeeled themselves from their cramped hiding place, exited the car, and slunk around the side of the school.

XxXxXxX

In the basement room, Rukia assembled her team for a last-minute briefing. One of the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling had burnt out, making the large, dim, low-ceilinged room seem even gloomier and more threatening. The furnace clanked sullenly in the background, casting a dull reddish glow over the faces looking back at her.

Rukia had seen the rust-colored stains near the drain and had shuddered briefly, wondering how many bloody murders this room had seen. She had finagled the key out of Grimmjow, claiming it was part of the mission she was on for Captain Nnoitra. He had also told her there were no gang meetings scheduled for the next two hours.

It should be enough, she calculated, for her to bring the first stage of her sting to completion. She looked around at the others. Renji was standing there, scowling ferociously, tattoos all over his face, looking like a murderous thug. Only she knew what he was like underneath. He was her backup here, and once more she felt grateful that Renji had her back. She didn't need to make eye contact with him to know that he was completely on her side, no matter what.

Next to him stood Aizen, looking like the mild, ineffectual nerd he was. She frowned to herself. Hopefully, he could act the part she had assigned him. She had a moment of nerves as she wondered whether he'd be able to pull it off, and then shrugged internally. He had a good memory, and was reliable. He didn't need to be the world's best actor to fool people. He had brought in two other students that he said could contribute; Rukia recognized one of them. The tall, slender teen was leaning casually against the basement wall, silver hair hanging in his eyes, his trademark grin on his face, acting as though he belonged in this grim place. Rukia shuddered briefly at the sight of him. He still reminded her of snakes, but Aizen had assured her that the youth was trustworthy.

Her glance flicked to the dark-skinned youth in cornrows standing quietly in the corner, his lips pressed tightly together. He had said not a word during her explanation, appearing almost disgusted by the whole procedure, but when she had quizzed him on his lines and role in the operation, he had read it all back to her letter-perfect.

"Right," Rukia said, "does anybody have any final questions?" She looked around, her gaze passing from face to face, probing for insecurities, doubts. There were none. She nodded firmly. "Good, then. Everybody please take your places. Now we wait."

XxXxXxX

Orihime walked slowly down the long, dark hall at the far end of the school. Most of the ceiling lights in this part of the building had been broken, and she saw shattered glass piled up against the edges of the walls. The remainder of the lights flickered fitfully, dimly lighting up the markings and dirt on the walls and floor. She didn't come to this part of the school often. Her heart pounded as she noticed the graffiti scrawled on one of the walls: the kanji numeral five, Hueco Mundo's symbol.

She remembered Grimmjow's warning to her; it now seemed so long ago. _"See that mark? That means it's Hueco Mundo territory and you should stay out. You should know that we own this school. You stay out of our way, you'll be okay. But if you cross us…" His eyes narrowed and he drew his finger across his throat. "Get it?"_

The question burned in her mind again. Was Sousuke really the "Captain" of Hueco Mundo? Could he really be the kind of person who would kill people who crossed him? No, it couldn't be. She shook her head again.

She turned the corner at the end of the hall. At the far end, in the flickering light, she saw a student standing ramrod-straight in front of the large iron double doors to the basement. He was dark-skinned, with long, neat braids hanging below his shoulders and over his muscular arms. Impeccably dressed in a sleeveless white linen tunic and perfectly pressed slacks, he stood watchful and alert. His gaze locked on hers as she came down the hall.

"Tousen-san," she whispered as she drew near.

He turned to face her, stepped in front of the door, blocking her entrance. "You can't go in there."

Orihime wet her dry lips. "Please," she said. At Tousen's blank stare, she gathered up her resolve and lied again. She was doing it so often these days; perhaps she was getting better at it. "Aizen-san said I should come. I'm just following his orders." She looked at him directly, wondering what he was thinking. If Aizen were truly the Captain, he would let her in. She knew that all of Hueco Mundo knew that she was his girlfriend now, so what she said would carry some weight if Aizen did indeed have power in the gang.

She could see the doubt in his eyes. Perhaps he was thinking Aizen would be angry if he went against his wishes.

Finally, he sighed and opened the door, bowing stiffly to her. "As you wish, Inoue-san," he said, his eyes flicking away from her.

Orihime nodded her thanks and slipped inside the door. As she made her way down the stairs, she heard voices below. She saw dim figures in the room, standing in a rough semi-circle. One of them was a dark-haired girl with her head bowed; she also recognized the thin, silver-haired teen with slitted eyes. But her gaze immediately went to the far end of the room, where a black armchair sat upon a raised platform. In the chair, appearing completely relaxed, his chin propped up on one hand, was Aizen. His bangs were falling over his face, and the dim light reflected off his glasses.

She stared at the scene before her, and crept closer to listen to the words being spoken.

XxXxXxX

Tousen stood tall at the door to the basement as the girl's footsteps gradually died away. He was frowning. It was no secret that he did not approve of Aizen-taichou's liaison with the girl, which he thought weakened him, distracted from the purity of his mission. While Aizen was distracted with the girl, petty street crimes in their neighborhood had been on the increase, and infighting had increased within the gang. Tousen had all the numbers. The numbers spoke clearly and cleanly on the page before him. It disturbed him, and was the only reason why he had chosen to allow Gin Ichimaru to speak with him on the subject, although he detested the sly, devious teen.

He and Gin Ichimaru had been with Aizen since the beginning. The beginning… he sighed. Could it all be coming to an end so soon? It seemed like only yesterday that he had joined the youth with the sharp, intelligent eyes and soft, persuasive voice. He remembered all too clearly what had led to it.

_He had been ten years old and in juvie for fighting when he met her: a tall, slender teacher with a ferocious passion for justice. She had wanted to make the world a better place. At first he had scorned her for her naïveté. She was always talking about turning lives around, about how the world was a wonderful place, how it was important to work for justice and fairness. Tousen had found her ridiculous and ignorant of the true nature of the world. He lived in a rat-infested dump with his grandmother, a frail woman who could barely see, bent over with arthritis and poverty. There was no justice or wonder for her, nor for any of the undernourished charges in her care, nor for any of their neighbors._

_He had ignored the teacher, mocked her. But she never stopped looking out for him, greeting him with a wide smile even when he refused to answer her. She never gave up. He had been arrested again, and she had come to his hearing, had spoken in his favor. Had asked that he be released into her special program._

_There, she had finally taught him to read. Had taught him that there was more to life than fighting and violence. She had spoken to him of poetry and of ambition. She had opened his eyes to a much larger and richer world than he had ever known, and it had been as though he had been blind from birth until she had given him sight._

_He had come to admire her with a chaste passion that matched her own. He would spend every day after school in her room, helping her with the other kids, cleaning her blackboards and floors, listening to her talk. She wanted him to join the police force, or become a lawyer, to work for justice, to better their neighborhood. She wanted to bring hope and light into the darkness of the world around him, and slowly, he had begun to see some of that light._

_He still remembered the night he got the word. She had gone into one of the public housing complexes, trying to talk to the parent of one of her charges. On the way, she had been mugged, her purse stolen. She hadn't even tried to fight back, had tried to talk to the kid, ask him if he needed help. Instead, he had pulled out a gun and shot her. Then he ran away. She died on the way to the hospital._

_Tousen spent the next few weeks carefully finding out who had committed the crime. Trying to think like a police detective, like a lawyer, he assembled his evidence. When he finally brought it to the police, he was proud of himself. He thought she would have been proud of him too._

_But no one on the police force had listened to him. They weren't even bothering to investigate the crime. Tousen had stood at the locked precinct gate, shouting, demanding why they were allowing the criminal to escape justice. Why they allowed such street crime to proliferate. It was as if the destitute did not matter to the police; and because she worked with those who did not matter, she did not matter either._

_As he finally turned away in despair, he saw his classmate, Sousuke Aizen, watching him. _

"_They think we are nothing, don't they?" the youth said in his deep, gentle voice. Tousen had turned his head away, his grief and anger so strong that he could not speak. "What if I told you there was another way to fight for justice, another way to become strong?" continued the brown-haired youth. His voice resonated with conviction. "What if I told you that those of us who are thought worthless need to stick together?"_

And indeed, all the time he had been with Aizen, he had seen how the other youth always dealt his own kind of justice, enforced the strict law of revenge and loyalty, reduced random street crime in all the territories where Hueco Mundo held sway. And so he had sworn absolute loyalty to the man. Aizen had promised to end the senseless violence, to ensure that only the ones who deserved to die would be killed. The law did not represent justice to Tousen; the system was corrupt and one needed to work outside it. Or so Aizen proclaimed, and Tousen was relieved to find another, stronger being with the passion for changing the world. At last, he was truly walking the path of justice, the path of least bloodshed.

Until now. It was one thing for Aizen to have sexual dalliances, or to indulge his sadistic nature on prisoners who deserved what they got. He forgave his leader those weaknesses that he himself did not have, because of Aizen's charismatic power, his ability to gather people around himself that Tousen could never share. But ever since Aizen had taken up with Orihime Inoue, he had been straying from the true path. He had become less efficient. There was danger that he would no longer be able to complete his work, his mission, the path that Tousen had sworn to follow him on until death.

So when Ichimaru had approached him with his sly suggestions, Tousen had chosen to listen… but now, considering his actions and Aizen's likely response, he wondered: had he made a mistake? Had he sullied the purity of his mind by considering the silver-haired teen's insinuations? Had he put himself in the path of Aizen's unrelenting view of vengeance? He paused, as the doubt and fear rose up in his mind.

Aizen, unlike his former teacher, was completely unforgiving.

XxXxXxX

The only noise in the basement room was the slight shuffling of feet as the group took up their positions. Rukia stood in the center of the dim room, near the furnace. Aizen sat in the armchair at the end of the room, relaxed, resting his chin on his knuckles, his face calm. Tousen was standing as gatekeeper at the door above, to keep any innocent civilians or other potential troublemakers out of the basement during the operation. The back door had been left unlocked and unguarded for Jinta and Ururu to sneak in.

Rukia didn't feel completely happy using civilians on this operation, but with the department's budget cuts, they had been outsourcing manpower more and more. They really didn't have enough cops to handle this operation on their own. Hitsugaya would have been there, but he was in the hospital with a broken arm. And the students had been downright eager to help her out. She pushed down her momentary twinge of conscience by telling herself that it was unlikely that any violence would occur at this stage of the operation.

They waited. No one spoke as the long minutes went by. Then they heard stealthy footsteps creeping up from the back entrance.

It was their cue. Rukia nodded at Renji to begin.

The tattooed redhead growled, "Got the latest shipment from Hirako. He said that Urahara was getting sloppy and almost had an accident in the lab. He sounded kinda angry, but then he demanded more money."

Aizen raised an eyebrow and said, "That doesn't sound too good. Gin, have you tested the shipment yet?"

The silver-haired teen nodded. "I tested the quality of the latest batch and it's not up to par. I think it's time we eliminated Hirako and Urahara. We have the formula and they're not useful anymore."

Rukia said, "Now wait a minute. I agreed to be a courier for you only because you promised there wouldn't be any killing involved. I don't want to be involved in murder."

There was another soft shuffle of footsteps, this time from the stairs leading down from the main door, the faint sound almost drowned out by Rukia's voice.

Aizen shifted in his seat and drawled, "So, you no longer wish to be a courier for me, Rukia?" His bangs fell over his face, and the dim light reflected off his glasses. "In that case, you are no longer of any use to me." He lifted his gaze to look at the youth standing in the back of the room, smiling as always. "Kill her, Gin."

"If I must," Gin Ichimaru said in a mocking voice as he moved forward, drawing a knife.

There was a faint gasp from the stairs and Aizen looked up at the sound. Silhouetted halfway down the stairs was a slender figure with long auburn hair, now frozen in mid-step. In a flash, Aizen was gone from his chair and at her side. "Orihime, what are you doing here?"

She stuttered, but nothing coherent came out of her mouth. His mouth set in a stern line, Aizen steered her up the stairs with a hand in the middle of her back. Orihime twisted around and tried to see what was going on behind them, but he was moving her forward inexorably. She snuck a glance at his profile. It was set, hard; his eyes burned with an anger she had rarely seen in them. What had he been doing down there?

Before Orihime could protest, they were out the door. Aizen's eyes fell upon Tousen.

"Kaname—" he said, his voice heavy with menace. "The gatekeeper's job isn't to let people in."

The dark-skinned man paled and bowed his head, trembling. "Ai-Aizen-san, I-I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." For a moment, Orihime almost thought he would fall to his knees. She was frightened, seeing the normally sanguine and arrogant Tousen so afraid and deferential. She looked at Aizen in terror. What would the "Captain" of Hueco Mundo do now?

"Sousuke," she asked in a panicked voice, "you weren't really ordering Gin to kill Rukia, were you?"

Aizen turned to her with a reassuring smile on his face. "Of course not. Nothing there was as it seems." He ran his hand through her hair and brought his lips close to her ear. "You surely don't think I would do anything like that, do you?"

She looked at him, her eyes wide. "I— I don't know, Sousuke. I mean," she glanced sidelong at Tousen, who was still shaking with terror. "I've heard all the rumors about the Captain… I couldn't believe them of you… but…" She broke off, her heart pounding with fear. She stared at the man she had thought was the love of her life. What he had said downstairs… would make him the cold-blooded killer and ruthless gang leader the Captain was supposed to be. But how could that be true? She struggled to reconcile the gentle Sousuke she knew with the harsh reality she had just witnessed. Had it all been an illusion? Had he truly been lying to her from the beginning?

Aizen was shaking his head, distressed now. "No… you don't understand, Orihime." He glanced at Tousen. "Kaname, you and I will speak of this later." He lowered his voice. "Orihime, I'm actually working with the police. This is an undercover sting to help stop the spread of Breakdown."

Orihime stopped and stared at him. Then she put her hands on her hips, angry now. "Sousuke, I have to say that you're not up to your usual skill with your lies. That one sounds pretty far-fetched."

Aizen shook his head, seeming almost bemused. "We can talk about it later if you don't believe me. In any event, Orihime, I need to get back to my part of the show, or the sting will be endangered. Kaname, could you escort Orihime back to class? And get someone else to stand guard on this door." His lips thinned. "Someone who can support this important police work more effectively."

"Don't worry, Orihime," Aizen said in a low, intense voice, as Tousen steered her away. He turned back to the stairs. "I promise you I will explain everything to you afterwards. Just please give me a few minutes."

He moved back down the stairs and re-entered the basement room, his emotions in turmoil, although, as always, none of that showed on his face. Fortunately, not much appeared to have happened while he was distracted by Orihime's arrival. As planned, Renji had stepped in and blocked Gin's knife. Gin and Renji were now engaged in a heated argument while Rukia was begging to be reinstated, swearing she would continue to participate in the gang.

Aizen stepped calmly back into the fray. "Gin, Renji," he commanded softly. "Please stop this unseemly brawling." He glanced at Rukia. "She says she wishes to continue with us; that's sufficient."

Gin stepped away from Rukia and his knife disappeared. "Whatever you wish, Aizen-taichou."

"Now," Aizen continued, "I agree with you, Gin. Hirako and Urahara have outlived their usefulness." He turned to Renji. "I want you to find them tonight and finish them off. They both always work late and come home late from the lab. Make it look like a robbery."

Renji bowed his head. "Of course, Aizen-taichou."

They all listened for sounds from the back of the room where Jinta and Ururu were hiding. After a moment, they heard a stealthy patter of feet retreating. The two were rushing to warn their uncle and boss. Rukia nodded with satisfaction. She nodded to her team. Other police officers had been stationed outside, ready to follow Jinta and Ururu as they ran back to the company building. They would be easy to follow since they were still on foot; easy for the officers to stop and take into custody. Once they were both in police custody, they could be separated and interrogated. The story they had heard should lead them to confess enough, based on their fear for their uncle's life, to yield sufficient evidence for Rukia to swear out a warrant on Hirako Pharmaceuticals.

All the while, Aizen's mind was whirling, only a fraction of his attention on the scene playing out before him; instead, he was considering what he would need to say to Orihime. He just wanted to finish this task, play it out, so that he could get back to Orihime and make it all better. He wished now he had never gotten involved with Rukia's plan. It had seemed so intriguing and amusing at first…

_Rukia looked up from the report. A big grin split her face. "Aizen-san, you've done it! They've taken the bait. This is exactly what we need."_

_The brown-haired teen gazed at her mildly through his glasses. "I thought you'd be pleased."_

"_Pleased doesn't begin to say it." Rukia got up and began to pace around the small room. "I think it's time for us to move into the final act." There was a gleam in her eye. She looked down at the paper again. "Yes. This Jinta and Ururu will be our conduits to Urahara and Hirako." She clenched her fists. "Now, we have to be careful to make sure we can rope them all in. OK. Here's what we need to do."_

_Aizen looked up at her, his face attentive and serious, as she laid out her plan. She had pulled out a pad of paper and begun drawing on it._

_After a while, he started chuckling. "Kuchiki-san, are those rabbits' heads you're drawing there?" His face was mildly puzzled._

_Rukia glared at him. "Why is everybody a critic? I just want to make sure that we keep all the principals straight. That's what they taught us in training; it's important to be aware of all the players and all their roles in the operation."_

_Aizen straightened his face, but his lips were still twitching slightly. "I understand, Kuchiki-san," he said, his lips just barely trembling with mirth._

_Rukia glowered, but then looked back down at the paper and continued her drawing. "Now—" she began, then paused and glared back at Aizen._

_He stared at her in puzzled silence for a moment. "What?" he asked._

"…_I'm waiting for you to criticize my drawing skills."_

"_Kuchiki-san," Aizen said, smiling, "far be it from me to do such a churlish thing. Why would you ever think that of me?"_

"_Hmph," she snorted, then resumed her drawing. "…At least someone in this school has some manners," she muttered under her breath._

"_So," she said aloud. "I want you, me, and a couple more undercover cops to stage a meeting in the school basement. I hear that's where the gangs usually meet."_

_Aizen raised an eyebrow. "If the gangs meet there, how are we going to be able to get access to their territory?" he pointed out._

_Rukia gave him a smug look. "Leave that to me. I'll get it arranged," she promised with a dismissive sweep of her hand._

"_All right," he agreed with a dubious frown on his face as he stared at the pad of paper. "Who are all those, uh, people?"_

"_These are the 'gang' members," she explained. "And over here, is you, sitting in this chair at the end of the room."_

_He stared at the bunny with square glasses and tried not to laugh. "Me? What am I supposed to be doing?"_

"_I want you to play the gang leader." Her eyes met his with a challenge in them._

_His face indicated that he was taken aback, although inwardly he was supremely amused. "Why me?" he asked._

"_I think you're the best choice because of your knowledge of the chemistry surrounding Breakdown. And it makes sense because you work at Hirako Pharmaceuticals and have connections with Hirako and Urahara."_

"_Are you seriously expecting me to pretend to be the 'Captain' of Hueco Mundo?" Aizen could not stop the amusement from overflowing into his voice. Then he became serious. "The man's a bloodthirsty bastard, isn't he? How could I play a man like that?"_

_Rukia firmed her lips and waved her hand airily. "Haven't you watched gangster movies? I'll have a script ready for you. All you have to do is act tough and casually order a few deaths. That'll scare Jinta and Ururu into thinking that you were working with their uncle and Hirako, and that you're about to kill them. That should lead them to rush home to warn them. Then, we follow them and arrest them partway along. That will not only give us leverage over their uncle, it should give us an admission of guilt or at least some link to evidence that something's not kosher in their company."_

"_I don't know…" Aizen sounded dubious._

_The black-haired woman put her hands on her hips. "Come on! It's the only way I'll be able to get a warrant sworn out for Hirako Pharmaceuticals. The district judge has been really leery of giving me a warrant lately." She frowned._

_Aizen looked at her. "But this leads to a great deal of risk to me personally. I may end up having to do something illegal. It may start to look like I'm actually involved with this gang or with Breakdown sales. That could hurt my acceptance to Harvard next year."_

_Rukia sighed. Trust a nerd to be overly concerned about college admissions when there were life-or-death problems at stake. But Aizen had shown himself to be a valuable asset to their team, so she would make sure he was taken care of. "Don't worry, Aizen-san. I'll write up a document detailing your role in our plans and giving you immunity from prosecution even if you have to... skirt the law at times. Will that satisfy you?"_

_Aizen nodded slowly. "Yes. I can accept that."_

"_Good. Now here's what I want you to do."_

Aizen had been so amused by the plan he had decided to go along with it, although it had a number of very risky elements. It was not a very well thought out scheme, he thought critically. He had even wondered if Rukia really suspected him and was running a scam within a scam. But all his sources indicated that was not possible. So, even though he had originally been planning to lead her in a slightly different direction, he had eventually agreed to do it. He was nothing if not flexible with his plans. The immunity from prosecution was the icing on the cake. If anything went wrong, it would be excellent insurance for him personally.

But now… he shook his head. It was truly ironic that Orihime would falter in her belief toward him the one time he was ostensibly doing something for the police, something she might have approved of. Because Kaname had slipped up and allowed Orihime to witness that little scene, it looked like everything was going to fall apart. His eyes narrowed. Had Kaname truly slipped up? Or was this part of some behind-the-scenes machinations from within his own organization?

As the others began to disperse, he walked up the stairs slowly. Tousen was waiting for him at the top.

"Kaname," he said. "We need to talk. Let's go to the third floor office." His voice was quiet, but he did not bother to disguise the menace behind his words. He noted with satisfaction that drops of sweat were running down Tousen's neck as the dark-skinned youth bowed his head and moved in the direction of the stairs.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

(Originally posted 5/7/2011; edited 5/10/2011.)

XxXxXxX

Aizen stood gazing down at his long-time lieutenant kneeling on the floor before him. The dark-skinned man was shaking and sweating, in obvious fear for his life. He had just finished telling Aizen everything, including anything that could possibly be relevant to Aizen's questions and then some. The words had tumbled out over his trembling lips in hurried gasps, as he regurgitated any piece of information that might please or inform his leader.

Aizen let him kneel as he pondered the new data and considered how it might affect his plans. Fury had risen in him during the revelation of treachery within his own ranks, but now it had cooled and turned icy.

As it should be. He could think more clearly when not choked by emotion.

"Please, sir," Tousen said once again, "I beg your forgiveness. I truly believed that we were acting on your behalf and for your benefit."

"Silence," said Aizen, and the man instantly shut his mouth, keeping his gaze on Aizen's feet.

The brown-haired teen fingered the knife in his pocket. He thought about slitting Tousen's throat, seeing the bright red blood, watching the man crumple at his feet. It would be so simple, so easy... as it always was to end a life. So final...

But no. The one who deserved punishment was elsewhere. And the best way to punish him… would require a small setup. Still, Aizen waited and let Tousen feel the terror he so richly deserved. The man was trembling, his head bowed, his body tense as though he expected a death blow at any moment. He knew, as did any of Aizen's subordinates, how easily their leader dealt death. How carelessly he took lives; at a whim, for amusement, a dark god mowing down his followers like toys.

A small smile played about Aizen's lips.

After a moment, he moved around his desk and lowered himself into his chair, his eyes focused off in the distance. There, he paused for another long moment before speaking. "Kaname," he said, his voice caressing, "you have said enough so that I will not kill you this instant. But consider this a suspended sentence for the nonce." His voice sharpened. "I have need of you in the current operation. If you perform exceptionally well for me, and if you— play a certain small role for me, I may consider a partial pardon for you."

Tousen took a deep breath. "Thank you, Aizen-sama." He kept his head bowed. "What do you wish me to do?"

"You know the preparations with the Ninth Street warehouse for tonight's events? I need a few small changes to be made."

XxXxXxX

There was a commotion outside the door where Grimmjow was resting in bed, and it woke him up. His fever had broken and he was feeling much better, more lucid, and the pain in his arm was much less.

"Goddamn it, you're gonna let me in to see him," growled a voice he recognized. Nnoitra.

The response from the kid guarding the door was softer. "Sir, I'm very sorry, but Captain's orders say no one is to see him."

"Yeah? Well, I outrank you, so I'm going in. You can complain to the Captain if you like, and then tell him why you were going to disobey one of the Espada." The door banged open and Nnoitra strode in with a scowl on his face. The boy guarding the room prudently remained outside as Nnoitra slammed the door shut behind him.

"Hey Grimmy," he said, pulling a chair over to the bed and straddling it facing the back. "What's up?" He showed Grimmjow his toothy grin.

"Not much," growled Grimmjow in response. He eyed Nnoitra suspiciously. Why would the bastard come to see him, unless he wanted something? And it wasn't likely to be to Grimmjow's advantage.

"Eh, lots of excitement going down while you've been… out of commission," said Nnoitra delicately. "Have you heard?"

"What?" asked the blue-haired man, resigned to the fact that he'd have to deal with one of Nnoitra's stories, have to sort out the truth from the lies later.

"I've been promoted." Nnoitra preened and his eyes glittered. "Aizen-sama named me one of his lieutenants two days ago." His grin widened. "So now I definitely outrank you, old buddy."

Grimmjow shrugged. "What do I care?"

The lanky teen grinned further. "That means you have to obey my orders, Grimmy. And I have a job for you."

The teen on the bed growled, "I'm in bed with a bullet wound, Nnoitra, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Too bad. You can walk, right?" He was unsympathetic. "You see, Aizen-sama has asked me to perform a very important task for him. And I'm gonna need some minions besides Tesla." His grin flashed again at his mention of his overly loyal friend. "And you, my friend, have just been assigned to be my minion."

"What the fuck kind of task?"

"I'm gonna be working on an important plan of Aizen-sama's. We're gonna be diddling the cops, and I'm in charge."

"Why would Aizen-sama put a brainless oaf like you in charge?" Grimmjow's tone was scornful.

"Maybe Aizen-sama recognizes my abilities, asshole," growled Nnoitra. "He's practically naming me his successor," he said, gloating. "I'm gonna be the Captain in his place."

"You're what?" Grimmjow asked, astonished.

"Yeah, I'm gonna run the gang. You ask me, he's getting soft. It's time for new leadership anyway. I think lots of us are gettin' tired of how he runs things. They want someone else, someone who's gonna listen to them more. You better be good to me, Grimmy, or it'll go poorly for you." His grin turned nasty. "But stick with me when the shit goes down, and I'll give you a high position in my organization."

As Nnoitra gleefully detailed Aizen's plan, his role in it, and his own plans for overthrowing their leader, including getting Tesla and a couple of others to "detain" Ulquiorra for some reason, Grimmjow stared at him. He couldn't believe Nnoitra was so blind—or so stupid. Aizen setting him up as "Captain" to work with the cops? He smelled one of Aizen's elaborate schemes again, one that involved toying with his underlings as usual. More like setting Nnoitra up as "patsy," Grimmjow thought. Nnoitra had been a little too loud with his complaints about Aizen's absences lately. He had risen to Gin's baiting several times as well. Grimmjow was quite certain that when Gin walked around suggesting to gang members that maybe it was time to rebel against their leader, reports went directly back to Aizen.

"Awright, Grimmy, here's what I want you to do," concluded Nnoitra. "We leave tonight, so finish up all your recovering today."

"Aw shit," Grimmjow said as he leaned back on the pillows. But he checked himself out internally. Yeah, he was feeling better. Sure, he could function, though he wouldn't be one hundred percent. Huh, maybe it wouldn't be so bad, being out in the action again. Hell of a lot better than lying in bed under house arrest here. He listened to Nnoitra's orders and pretended to go along.

XxXxXxX

Ninth Street was dark ahead as an icy wind sliced through the dilapidated buildings, whistling around the corners. Hirako gestured to Urahara and Tessai to take up positions behind him as they approached the old warehouse. Aizen had disappeared into it less than fifteen minutes ago, along with some other kids who looked like thugs. The wind blew Hirako's hair over his face and made his ears ache with the cold. Cursing, he struggled to tie it back once again. He felt Urahara come up beside him.

"Do you think Jinta and Ururu are in there?" The man's face was uncharacteristically lined with worry.

Hirako looked back at his long-time colleague, his eyes grim. "I'm afraid they prob'ly are. You saw the note they left. I haven't been able to find 'em anywhere, and I can't raise 'em on their cell phones."

Urahara sighed. "I don't think it's a smart idea to storm the place. But if they have Jinta and Ururu, I don't think we have any choice." He raised his eyes to his friend's. "We have to go in and try to get them out." He could see the weariness and despair in Hirako's eyes.

The other man slowly nodded. "Yeah. I think we hafta."

Tessai, standing directly behind them, nodded. "And we have to move quickly, before anything happens to them."

Urahara blew out his breath. "I didn't plan this out correctly," he muttered. "If I had only had more time… "

Hirako looked at him sympathetically. "But you didn't know what would happen to Jinta and Ururu. Aizen and whoever's behind him are clearly completely unscrupulous."

"Yeah." Urahara seemed to regain his resolve. "All right. Here's the approach I think has the best chance of working. We go in the side door, split up. Try to do it quietly, try to find Jinta and Ururu. Don't engage with them unless absolutely necessary. I've got our cell phones set to vibrate in two patterns if one of the others calls. Use the first one if you've found them and are getting them out. In an emergency, use the second pattern. I've programmed in the layout of the warehouse into your cell phones, so you can also use them if you get lost." He looked at the others. "Got that?"

They both nodded, slipped their guns out of their pockets. Then they began walking stealthily towards the warehouse.

XxXxXxX

Down the street from the warehouse, Ichigo watched Renji hang up his cell phone with clumsy, blue-looking fingers, his own fingers tingling with sympathy as the wind nipped at them. He looked at the others on the stakeout with him—three cops and three civilian teenagers—and scowled. Not very much to go up against a ruthless and well-organized gang like Hueco Mundo. "That was Kuchiki-san," Renji told the others. "She says they've got the confessions of the two kids, and they have a warrant for Hirako Pharmaceuticals. They're sending a team there now. She's going to be here in a minute to join us for the warehouse operation."

"Why the fuck do we have to wait for her?" growled one of the cops from another district infamous for its reports of police brutality. "We should go into the warehouse now." His one visible eye narrowed, and he adjusted his eyepatch again in irritation.

Renji frowned at the spiky-haired cop. "Zaraki-san, our orders were to wait until Hirako and his people try to enter the building. We can't go in until then anyway."

Ichigo scowled as well, running a hand through a mop of orange hair. "Isn't there danger to whomever's in the warehouse now? What if Hirako and Urahara kill them before we can get to them?"

This time Renji could barely restrain himself from barking out an order to shut up. "Ichigo, we're sticking to the plan. This is the way Kuchiki-san said to do it and that's the way we'll do it." He glowered at the orange-haired boy, and for good measure, at everybody else in the group.

Gradually, the muttering subsided and the group settled back down to wait, only occasionally stamping their feet or blowing on their hands in the icy darkness.

XxXxXxX

Inside the warehouse, in a small control room with a one-way smoked-glass window overlooking the main shipping floor, two teens were sitting at an old wooden table, working on laptops. The lights were off inside the room, so the only light was a pale flickering blue that came from the laptop screens. It would be invisible from the floor below.

The thin, pale teen with silver hair got up and walked over to the window, scanning the darkened expanse below. "They're a bit late, Aizen-sama," he said.

The other teen smiled, not looking up from typing on his laptop. "Don't worry, Gin. I've got both groups on my sensors now. They're in position." He finished a final sequence of keys, and then leaned back with a smile of satisfaction. "There. Everything's set."

He looked up at his lieutenant. "What's the final word from Nnoitra and Luppi?"

Gin gestured at his laptop. "Just got the notice from them. They're in position as well."

Aizen smiled. "Good." His eyes were gleaming. "Now we just get to sit back and watch the fun."

Gin glanced over at his leader. He had sensed a subtle change come over the brown-haired teen since they started this operation. Earlier, he had been almost… moping, Gin thought. His energy levels had been down and he had been uncommunicative, almost surly. As carefully attuned to his leader's moods as Gin was, it had been clear. But now, as he watched Aizen glance over the screen, he noted that the man was vibrating with energy again, pleased, alert.

"Nothing like a good, convoluted plot to get him excited again," thought Gin with a smug inner smile. It was as though the old Aizen had come back, the one who lived for complex machinations and the subtle one-upmanship of clever schemes designed to outwit and crush his opponents. He shook his head inwardly. That Orihime Inoue woman had been terribly dangerous… but hopefully she had been neutralized for the time being… and without any harm befalling her. Gin congratulated himself on how well it had all worked out. Arranging events so that she would realize that _she_ needed to break up with Aizen had been a stroke of genius on his part, he thought. There would be no retaliation against him because she had not been hurt, so there would be no need for revenge. His ever-present grin on his face, he bent to his laptop again, opened another window and began typing.

On the other side of the darkened room, Aizen sat quietly, waiting for the others to arrive. There was no noise other than the quiet clicking of keys on Gin's laptop. Usually, during this part of an operation, he would be going over and over the various possibilities, pruning his strategy tree as events transpired, imagining various contingency plans. Plotting and executing operations like this had always been one of the only ways he knew he was alive.

But tonight, he spared only cursory thoughts toward the operation. Everything was going smoothly; it was not worthy of his full attention. Instead, as he waited, his mind went back over his most recent talk with Orihime.

_He had gone to her apartment, and when she opened the door, he saw that her eyes were red-rimmed from crying._

"_What's wrong?" he asked, already knowing the answer._

_She had half turned away. "You're the 'Captain' of Hueco Mundo, aren't you."_

_He had hesitated, and then finally nodded. "I won't lie to you any more, Orihime." There was a long pause, and then he said, "Yes." He took her hands and looked her straight in the eyes. "But, please, Orihime, let me explain. It's not like the rumors say. Those are deliberately spread for a reason."_

_She dropped her eyes. She had begun crying again, this time silently, tears dripping down her cheeks. "You've never stopped lying to me, Sousuke, have you?" she said._

"_Orihime, I'm sorry," he said, "I'm not lying to you now. Please believe me."_

"_Did you really—order Gin to kill Rukia?" Her voice had fallen to a whisper, sobs choking her throat._

_He felt annoyance rise in his gorge. "I told you, that was a police sting, Orihime. Rukia's still alive; didn't you see her in school today?"_

_Her eyes rose to focus on his, with anger replacing the tears. She put her hands on her hips. "Don't try to lie to me again, Sousuke!" she said, her voice rising in a rare show of temper. "I told you I didn't believe that police sting story. Why would the cops come to a gang leader to set up a sting?"_

"_I'm not lying," he said in a mild tone. "Rukia's an undercover cop, and she doesn't know I'm involved with Hueco Mundo." He smiled with a hint of mischief in his eyes. "She thinks I'm a straight-A student and far too much of a nerd to be involved in anything shady."_

_She still looked skeptical, so he frowned and bent to his backpack on the floor. He took out his laptop. "Here," he said. "I'll show you."_

_He opened up the file with the letter of immunity from the Karakura police department, turned the laptop screen to face her._

_Orihime looked at it with reluctance, slowly scrolled through the letter. When she was finished, she closed the laptop. Then she looked back at Aizen and folded her arms across her chest. "I'm sorry. You could easily have forged this."_

_He opened his eyes wide and let hurt show in them. "You don't believe me?" he asked._

_She sighed. "Sousuke, you've lied to me so often and so well, I just don't know what to believe. I find out you're the leader of a gang that terrifies everyone in the school, and right afterwards I hear you ordering someone killed—" Her voice faded. "I just don't know what to believe," she repeated._

_He took both her hands, gazed at her with his large eyes wide and guileless. "Orihime, I swear to you, from the bottom of my heart, by my love for you, that I am telling the truth now."_

_She turned away again and the tears started flowing once more. Aizen sighed. This was getting tiresome. It was time to stop talking. He took her in his arms and started kissing her, held her shaking body until her sobs stopped._

_But Aizen knew everything was still unresolved. He could feel her holding back, and it both saddened and irritated him. He was telling her what she would consider the truth. Why did she stubbornly refuse to believe him? He mused that there was no such thing, after all, as 'truth' or 'lies' in this world, only plain, hard facts. Yet, all beings seemed to take only those facts that were convenient to them as the truth._

He sighed once more in the darkened room. He was not as practiced with love and trust as he was with fear and intimidation. He had always thought them the weaker emotions, but it seemed they could be more complex after all. If only he weren't so busy with dealing with the police, with arranging his various plans around Breakdown, he could give Orihime more attention. But he had already been slipping in his work with the gang. If he let it go further now, it would become dangerous. He calculated that he had already spent as much time away from the gang as he could afford; he had been spending the winter break arranging the next steps and gathering all the scattered pieces—so time-consuming.

His gaze was caught by a brief flash on his laptop screen. A split-second later, he saw a faint light on the factory floor, quickly cut off. His eyes narrowed. It was beginning.

XxXxXxX

After working for a few minutes at the dimly-lit side door of the warehouse in the pitch-black alley off Ninth Street, Urahara slid the set of lock picks back into his pocket and silently motioned Tessai and Shinji in ahead of him. Both already had their guns out. The three slipped quietly into the darkened warehouse. Urahara briefly checked the warehouse blueprint on his cell phone, and then took the corridor he thought was most likely to lead to where they might be holding Jinta and Ururu, signaling the others to take a different path.

Once alone, he walked quietly, using only the tiny LED penlight on his cell phone to guide his footsteps. He had entered the factory floor, and ahead of him lay many dark, hulking shadows— crates and pallets of whatever material was stored in the warehouse. He grinned fiercely into the darkness. It was like an urban jungle here, and he was ready for it. He moved stealthily around the first set of crates, working his way toward the side room marked on his map.

XxXxXxX

The light over the warehouse door was broken, but in the dim light from a streetlamp further down the block, Ichigo could see the faces of Rukia and the others around him, all grim and stern. Ichigo drew his gun, held it in his hand as Rukia gave the signal. The tiny, dark-haired officer had a headset on and was communicating with someone at police headquarters.

She gestured to gather the group in close. "We go in quiet. New word is we've got a hostage situation on our hands."

"Shit," cursed Kenpachi. "So we don't get to go in and bust heads?"

"Not initially," said Rukia with a grim smile. "But you'll get your chance. Word is we've got evidence to arrest these bastards. Everyone on the premises is to be taken into custody. Got it?" There were nods all around. "OK. Now we go in. I want you all to spread out as soon as we get inside."

She made a sharp gesture with her head, and they all followed her in the door to the warehouse.

Inside, it was dim and quiet. Stacks of crates hulked unevenly around them in the dimness, piled all the way to the twenty-foot ceiling nearly invisible in the shadows. Somewhere in the distance, something creaked.

Ichigo ducked behind one of the large stacks on the dark floor of the warehouse, moving in his assigned direction. It was absolutely quiet around him; he couldn't even hear the footsteps of the other members of his team. The gun in his hand felt strange; although he had used guns frequently on the shooting range, he had never before considered using one against another human being.

In his pocket was another thing that felt strange: a police badge. Here he was, the kid who had always been at odds with authority figures, working on the side of that authority. It felt pretty ironic.

_Rukia had met him at his locker and motioned him to an empty classroom, where she had looked up at him with those intense violet eyes. "Ichigo," she had said, "we're so short-staffed that I'm going to have to deputize you. I've already gotten approval from Chief Yamamoto." She held out the badge. "Here. You're a substitute police officer now," she said with a smile, "a deputy."_

_He looked down at the badge but didn't take it. He frowned. "I don't know if I'm ready for this kind of responsibility, Rukia. I've only helped you because it seemed you really needed it for a while. I don't want to be responsible for dealing with all the lawbreakers in the school."_

_She scowled at him. "Didn't you just tell me that all the beds in your clinic are full, that they're leaving the new cases on gurneys in the hall?"_

"_Yeah, but…" Ichigo didn't want more responsibility. He wanted to protect his family and his friends. But he was having a hard enough time doing even that. His mind shied away from the thought of Orihime and how he had been unable to protect her recently._

_The black-haired girl pushed him down into a chair and leaned in, her face inches away from his as she shoved a finger hard into his chest. "You jerk!" she cried. "Don't you realize that if the people who care don't take responsibility, then Hueco Mundo and all its ilk will have won? It's not enough to only take care of personal friends. You have to think of all the innocents who could be hurt or killed by Hueco Mundo." She put her hands on her hips and glared. "What about Nel, that girl you rescued in the alley? How is she doing?"_

_Ichigo turned his face away. Nel was on life support now, and her prognosis was not good. It was true. Someone needed to stand for all the innocents; it didn't matter if he didn't want the responsibility. He was needed and that was all that mattered._

_Ichigo had finally taken the badge with his heart pounding in his chest. He ran his fingers over the etched metal, complete with serial number. It felt heavy in his hand as he took it, accepting the symbolic weight of responsibility that came along with it._

_He looked at Rukia, so tiny and so fierce, and he felt a rush of pride. She trusted him, a delinquent known only for his fighting skills. He got up out of the chair, nodded firmly at her, and felt himself stand straighter as a result of her return gaze. "Let's go do it, then," he said._

Ichigo moved stealthily around several piles of crates, his gun out. He was supposed to inspect the entire northwest quadrant of the main floor, so he tried to set up a systematic path to walk around all the crates. He tried to make as little noise as possible as he walked. They were looking to protect hostages now as well as trying to arrest the drug dealers, so he hoped he could sneak up on them unawares.

There was a brief scrabbling sound off to his left and he turned toward the noise and began to creep quietly forward.

XxXxXxX

Orihime had been washing dishes in her apartment earlier that day when she heard a key turning in her lock. Surprised, she turned to look at the door. Aizen always knocked before he used his key; was he in a rush tonight? Drying her hands quickly, she ran out of the kitchen to greet him at the door. But when the door swung open, she stepped back with a gasp of shock. It wasn't Aizen.

It was Nnoitra.

The tall, lanky teen was grinning widely at her. "Hey, Princess, long time no see."

Orihime swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest. But she glared at the black-haired youth. "What are you doing in my house?" she demanded, hands on her hips. "Get out at once."

He leered at her. "I don't think so, sweetie-pie." He pushed her aside, plopped himself down on her sofa, grinned again. "You see, there's been a little change of control over in Hueco Mundo. You're looking at the new Captain." He preened slightly, stretching lazily and putting one arm over the back of the sofa.

Orihime gasped. "What happened to— Aizen-san?" She wouldn't call him Sousuke in front of this slimeball.

He shrugged. "Who cares?" He stood up and loomed over her. "Anyway, you're comin' with me." He grasped her arm firmly and began half-dragging her toward the door.

"What? Wait!" she cried, trying to dig in her heels and pull away from him.

Casually, he punched her in the face.

The shock of the pain exploded in her head as she felt herself lose her balance and fall over backward. On the way down, her head struck the corner of her coffee table and she lost consciousness.

Still grinning, Nnoitra picked her up and slung her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "Oh yeah, Princess. You're gonna be my ticket to the big-time." He marched out the door with his burden.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

(Originally posted 5/13/2011.)

XxXxXxX

"Aizen-taichou, wanna come see?" Gin was grinning as he tilted the laptop screen toward Aizen. The two teens were alone in the dimly lit control room in the abandoned warehouse. "We've got everybody on infrared sensors." The gang leader leaned over and focused on Gin's laptop. "See, over here is Urahara. And I think this is Hirako and Tessai. That's the police team at the front entrance. And here are Nnoitra and Luppi."

Aizen frowned at the screen. "Why is Nnoitra carrying Luppi? That wasn't in the arrangement."

Gin shrugged. "Dunno. Bit of a loose cannon, isn't he? Or maybe Luppi passed out or somethin'. Guy seems to be a drug addict. Nasty habit, that," he added, grinning more widely.

Aizen scrutinized the movements on the screen a moment more, his eyes narrowing. "Contact Ulquiorra," he ordered.

"Right!" said Gin and pulled out his cell phone.

There was silence in the room for a few moments as Gin dialed and Aizen frowned at the screen. When Gin finally put the phone away his grin was gone. "No answer, Aizen-sama."

Aizen's face went cold. Something was very wrong. Ulquiorra was supposed to be guarding Orihime. Nnoitra must be doing something he hadn't expected. He stood up. "Come, Gin. We're going down there."

The slender teen's eyes widened briefly and Aizen noted the flash of fear in them. "Uh, sure ya don' want someone to stay up here, keep an eye on things like we planned?"

Aizen glanced at Gin with amusement. The man was still terrified of death, still preferred to do his killing in a sneak attack from behind. Although he was always good in a direct confrontation if forced to do it. Not feeling fear himself, he had to admire Gin for facing his. "No. We wanted to be here so we could intervene if things went wrong. We're intervening. Come." Gin shrugged inwardly and obeyed the direct order, as had been his habit since he was twelve years old. He followed his master as they slipped out of the side door of the small room and began walking toward the corridor where Nnoitra's signal had come from.

XxXxXxX

Grimmjow sat at the wheel of a stolen car on the street in front of the warehouse, tapping his fingers nervously on the wheel. He was starting to feel a little woozy again after being up and moving for a while. He really should still be in bed, he thought irritably. Damn that Nnoitra. And what was Aizen up to?

He cursed again. Nnoitra had ordered him to drive to the warehouse and meet him there, but hadn't told him what he was going to do. He had a sneaking suspicion that something bad was going to go down in that warehouse. If Aizen caught him helping Nnoitra in some unauthorized action, he was going to have a hard time justifying his actions. It would be just like Aizen to assign him to assist Nnoitra, and then accuse him of disloyalty for obeying the guy. Grimmjow scowled.

Then he saw a slight, dark-haired figure slipping through the shadows, moving towards the front door of the warehouse.

XxXxXxX

Urahara silently moved from door to door in the dim corridor, looking for the room where Jinta and Ururu might be being held. He opened the next door in line and sucked in his breath. In front of him, curled up on the floor, lay a woman, wrists and ankles taped, gagged, her head lolling at an odd angle. He moved forward, examining the unconscious woman, and his eyes narrowed. It was no one he knew. She had long, light-colored hair, and there was dried blood on her face.

As he hesitated, wondering what to do about her, he heard a gunshot off in the distance. It was followed by other shots, and then the sound of shouting. He looked back at the woman. He needed to find Jinta and Ururu. But he couldn't just leave her here for whoever left her to come back. Cursing to himself, he peeled the tape off her face, hoisted her in his arms, and then ran back out the door. He'd take her to the room he'd seen at the end of the hall that was filled with piles of boxes. He could hide her behind one of them and then go back to his search.

But as he came out of the storeroom and into the hall, he came to an abrupt stop. A young man with a gun was standing there, and the gun was pointed straight at him. As the youth's eyes fell upon Urahara's burden, his face hardened and his eyes burned with rage beneath orange hair.

"Put her down. Now."

Urahara smiled disarmingly and said, "What are you trying to do with her?" Who was this kid? Had he been the one who tied her up?

"Put her down and walk away from her," repeated the youth. He moved forward, menace in his eyes.

But before he could do anything, there was the sound of a shot from close by, and the youth's body jerked forward, and then slumped over. The gun fell out of his fingers and clanged on the floor.

A tall, lanky young man with greasy black hair and an eyepatch was standing behind him, holding a gun and grinning. "Aww, you got my prisoner," he said, sneering at the blond still standing there holding Orihime's unconscious form. He waved the gun at Urahara. "That's fine. You can take her where I want to go. Save me some effort." With his other hand, he pointed behind Urahara. "Go up the corridor there. Keep moving unless you want to get a bullet in your leg... or one in her." His voice turned harsh. "Move!"

Urahara turned slowly, burdened by the woman he was carrying. As he did, she stirred in his arms, and he saw her eyes open. Her glance fell on the man lying in the corridor. "Kurosaki-kun!" She struggled against the restraints, looked up at Urahara in bewilderment.

"You know that kid?" he asked her.

"Yes," she whispered. "Is he— all right?"

Urahara glanced over at the orange-haired youth. "He's still breathing."

"Not for long," sneered Nnoitra, "if you don't do what I want. Now move!" He gestured sharply toward the end of the corridor.

Urahara saw the fire burn in her eyes at Nnoitra's words, but she said nothing. He tried to signal to her with his eyes that he was going to help her, but he was unsure if he got his message across.

Slowly, the three of them moved up the corridor.

XxXxXxX

Aizen strode along the corridor rapidly, his gun in his hand, Gin a few steps behind him. They were traversing the back of the warehouse now, twisting and turning in the warren of dim passages lit by cheap, failing fluorescent lights. The floor was dusty and the black specks of rat droppings littered the halls. Aizen came around a corner and stopped abruptly.

In the wide hallway in front of him stood Urahara holding Orihime, and Nnoitra behind them holding a gun. At the sight of him, Nnoitra grinned. "Well, if it isn't Aizen-taichou. Or should I say, the former taichou?" He sneered. "Drop your gun, Aizen, if you don't want me to shoot your pretty little piece right here."

Urahara stood silently under his burden, his eyes barely visible under his floppy hat. He did not react to the brown-haired teen's approach, but Orihime's eyes widened as she caught sight of Aizen and he could see the tension in her shoulders.

Aizen smiled calmly and let the gun fall out of his fingers; he held his hands out, palms open. Gin came skidding to a stop behind him, and Aizen said softly to him, "Put your gun away, Gin. We talk now."

His face betrayed nothing of the emotions behind it. The sight of Orihime, bruised and bleeding, her wrists and ankles taped, had raised a storm of icy rage in Aizen's heart. He, who had inflicted pain on so many others, had seen countless victims bound at his orders without a qualm, felt his heart pounding in his chest and his vision go red at the sight of Orihime in the same situation. He forced himself to look neutrally at Nnoitra when all he wanted was to plunge a knife into the grinning youth's body.

"Yeah. We talk." Nnoitra's voice was hard. "Here's what I want, and what you're going to give me, Aizen. I want—"

There was an abrupt pounding of footsteps and Rukia and Renji came running around another corner. Rukia was slightly ahead of Renji, and they were both breathing hard, their guns in their hands, their eyes flat and alert, their stances reflecting their police training. They stopped short at the tableau before them. Nnoitra had dropped back and was standing with his back against a wall, gun pointed at Urahara and Orihime.

"This is the police!" Rukia shouted. "Drop your gun, now!"

Nnoitra's eyes widened at the sight of his 'classmates' in uniform. But he only grinned. "Well, it looks like we're all here, don't it. Naw, you're the one who's gonna drop your gun. Or I'll shoot this little girl here full of holes."

Rukia glared at him, but after a long moment, slowly bent and laid her gun down on the cement floor. She motioned for Renji to do the same. There was a long moment of silence as they looked at Nnoitra, and in the sudden quiet Rukia could hear the uneven whine of the fluorescent tubes in the ceiling. There was a scrabbling sound behind the ceiling tiles, fading off into the distance.

Breaking the silence, Aizen said quietly, "So, you two are working together?" He was looking at Urahara and Nnoitra. Renji gaped at his words, the redhead's eyes gradually filling with understanding. Rukia's eyes flicked from Urahara to Nnoitra.

Nnoitra looked blank for a moment. "Huh?" he asked, and his eyes went up and down Urahara's body. Then he grinned. "Yeah. Yeah, we are. From the beginning," he added, with an expansive gesture with his gun.

"What?" said Urahara. "I've never seen this man before in my life." He was starting to wonder what was going on here. What was Aizen doing? He frowned at his former protégé. "What have you done with Jinta and Ururu?" he demanded. Were the police here to arrest Aizen? Things didn't look good with this madman with an eyepatch holding a gun on all of them, with a hostage as well. He wondered if there was anything he could do to salvage the situation. Maybe he could at least get the hostage away from them in the confusion. He slid a foot backwards stealthily, only to have Nnoitra shove his gun right into Orihime's face. She gasped and he could feel her tense in his arms.

"Don't move, you bastard. You stay still, or else." Nnoitra bared his teeth at Urahara, and then spun back to face the others. Rukia had taken a small step forward but she froze at his grimace and stood very still.

Urahara stopped moving and injected a mild, placating tone into his voice. "Whatever you say."

Nnoitra looked around, his gun pointed unerringly at Orihime. His face split in a huge grin as he saw the tension in the faces around him: his former leader, unarmed and unmoving; the cops standing helpless in the face of his control of the situation, eyes fixed on him. He felt the rush of power going through his body. This must be what it felt like to be Aizen, he thought, on top of the world with everyone else at your feet. It was finally all going Nnoitra's way, and they would all pay. He wondered, briefly, why he had ever obeyed Aizen's orders, when it was so much better to give the orders himself. It was finally time to get what he wanted. To get everything he ever wanted.

Off in the distance, a siren wailed faintly.

"Now." Nnoitra looked at Renji. "You're the police. I want you to get me two million dollars in cash, a plane, and a pilot. Or I'll off this little girl here," he gestured with the gun. He looked at Aizen. "And from you too. Two million dollars as well."

Rukia shook her head. Had the man gone completely crazy? Nothing he said made sense. Where did he think a poor high school student like Aizen would get that kind of money? But at least she could count on Aizen to back her up in the playacting here, and he did not disappoint her.

Aizen's face was calm. "It'll take me some time to arrange that, Nnoitra."

The lanky youth sneered. "Well, then, you better start getting to work, then, _Aizen_." He emphasized the name without any honorifics, reveling in it. "You always thought you were better than us, didn't you, Aizen. The great Aizen-sama; we all have to bow before you." His voice dripped sarcasm. "Well, now you're just like one of us. Less than one of us." He gave a sardonic grimace. "As a matter of fact, I want you to show it, Aizen." His voice rose. "I want you to kneel. Kneel to me, Aizen, or I'll kill her right here as we stand."

"You'd really give up four million dollars and a chance of escape just to engage in some petty one-upmanship with me?" Aizen's voice was smooth, with just a slight note of surprise present in it. He didn't move. "My, I wouldn't have thought even you would get so carried away." His tone was faintly scornful.

Nnoitra's breathing became ragged and he glared at Aizen, his focus narrowing to the other teen. Rukia heard a faint scuffling sound off to the side, and out of the corner of her eye, saw Ichigo slouched on the floor, dragging himself up the corridor on hands and knees, one leg bleeding, a gun in his hand. She quickly turned her eyes back front and center. She saw that Renji had also noticed Ichigo; his hand unconsciously brushed his hip where his handcuffs were, but then he stopped moving and deliberately avoided looking at Ichigo.

Aizen continued, "You've always had a bit of an inferiority complex, haven't you, Nnoitra. Never quite good enough, never quite strong enough. You hate women because they're supposed to be weaker than you."

"That's enough from you, Aizen," shouted Nnoitra. He raised the gun and held it to Orihime's forehead. "I'm gonna shoot her, now." Orihime stared back at him, her grey eyes defiant, her chin up, saying nothing.

Behind him, Ichigo crawled another slow foot forward, then another. There was a flurry of honking from somewhere outside.

"Do that and you're going down for murder one. Killing in front of so many witnesses? Giving up your hostage? I thought you would know better than that by now." Aizen's voice was cool.

Nnoitra's face was twitching with rage now as he stared at his former leader, who returned his gaze with an utterly placid one of his own. Slowly, Ichigo continued to scoot up the hall, paused, and raised the gun shakily to point at Nnoitra's back, supporting his elbow with his other hand. But how could he shoot Nnoitra while his gun was pointed at Orihime? There was a good chance it would go off and hit her. No, he had to wait until Nnoitra's gun was pointed elsewhere. He also needed to get closer. He lowered the gun and resumed his slow crawl forward.

"You're the one who should have known better," Nnoitra hissed. His face was twisted with anger. "You stopped doing your job, and for what?" He sneered. "For some _girl_. Everything's been falling apart while you mooned over her, and people are dying because you've been careless." He took a step forward, glared at Aizen. "It's time for you to go, and for new management to take your place."

Ichigo had moved into position, only a few feet away, clearly trying hard to keep his breathing soft. Once again he braced his elbow with his other hand, aimed the gun.

Aizen said softly, "You're not going to be able to manage anything, on the run from the police over kidnapping and hostage charges."

Nnoitra snarled, and enraged, turned away from Orihime to bring his gun to bear on Aizen. "You're the one who's gonna die, right here and now. I can kill you and keep my hostage for later." He drew the trigger back, the barrel pointing straight at Aizen's face.

The brown-haired youth simply looked at him, expression calm as always, even in the face of death. Then he smiled. "Now, Ichigo," he murmured.

There was the loud report of a gun, echoing and ringing against the cement floors and walls of the corridor, and Orihime gasped and jerked in Urahara's grip as Rukia stiffened and her fingers twitched towards her empty holster. Nnoitra's expression was puzzled—as though he wondered if he had just made good on his threat and shot his long-time leader, as though he was still trying to figure out what had happened—even as his gun dropped from boneless fingers and he stared, in shock, at the blood spurting out of his arm. Behind him, Ichigo was gasping for breath and pressing a hand to his bleeding leg.

Quick as a flash, Aizen bent and scooped up the gun Nnoitra had dropped, turned it on him casually. "Now it's your turn not to move," he said softly. "Rukia, Renji, I think you have the next job now."

Renji stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs and, before the lanky teen could move, took Nnoitra's good arm in an armlock, then restrained him with the cuffs. Rukia bent to pick up her weapon and trained it on Nnoitra as well, keeping him covered. Urahara sighed and sagged against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor, allowing Orihime to rest in his lap. She struggled to sit up, tugging ineffectually at the tape on her wrists.

Just then Kenpachi came out from one of the corridors, grinning. "Got all the others in restraints," Kenpachi announced with satisfaction, waving back at the main factory floor. "Have you got them all taken care of here?" He eyed Nnoitra with grim approval. "Ah, you got this one. Good. He's gonna go to jail for a long time."

"Yes," Aizen said softly. "I can't think of anyone who won't be pleased that you've finally got the notorious 'Captain' of Hueco Mundo in custody. From what he said today, it sounds like he's completely insane."

Nnoitra's pain-filled eyes turned to Aizen as if in sudden realization. "No—" he gasped. "It's not me. It's—"

Rukia snorted, her weapon still trained on the black-haired teen. "Don't bother lying, you bastard. We've got all the evidence on you, and with the additional charges today, you're up for the death penalty for sure."

Nnoitra's eyes began to roll in panic as he finally realized what was going to happen to him. Suddenly, he twisted away from Renji and with a sharp gasp, began running down the corridor. Kenpachi raised his eyebrows, and then lifted his gun, took aim deliberately at Nnoitra's back, and fired. The man gasped once, and then fell to the ground and lay unmoving.

Blood began welling out of his mouth, and he choked on it. He looked up at Kenpachi. The man's face was swimming in and out of his vision. Then Nnoitra's face split in a grin one last time. Even though he knew he had received his death wound, now that his end was upon him, it felt oddly fitting. It was how he always imagined he would die, drowning in his own blood… far preferable to rotting in prison, under the heel of weak idiots and bureaucrats jabbering about the _law_. He choked one more time, and then his eyes closed.

Kenpachi grinned and holstered his weapon.

"Awww. Shot trying to escape, too bad for him." He shrugged. "Oh well, it saves the taxpayers some money on the trial." He turned around, looked at the little group just standing there staring at him, spotted Urahara, and his eyes narrowed. "What's this one still doing without handcuffs?"

Aizen had moved to Urahara's side and taken Orihime from him. Gently laying her on the floor, he began untaping her wrists. "Are you all right, Orihime?" he asked.

Now trembling, she nodded, and then leaned her head against his chest as he worked at her bonds.

Behind him, Renji moved forward, slapped the handcuffs onto Urahara, who jerked in surprise. "Hey," he said. "What's this? I'm one of the good guys. I was just trying to get her away."

Rukia snorted. "Tell it to the judge. You have the right to remain silent..." She continued reading him his rights.

Renji leaned over Ichigo, examining his leg. "It's all right," he assured the orange-haired youth. "It's just a flesh wound. The bullet passed right through. You're gonna be okay." He clapped the youth on the back. "Great job for your first operation as a substitute police officer."

Ichigo grimaced, and then limped over to where Aizen was still releasing Orihime from her bonds. The brown-haired youth looked up at him and raised one eyebrow.

The redhead stared at him, and then said hoarsely, "You got him to point his gun at you."

Aizen smiled. "I thought it was the best way to get his focus off Orihime."

"You took a hell of a chance. He could have shot you."

Aizen shrugged. "Life is full of risks. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get Orihime to a hospital. She's taken a blow to the head as well as had a terrible shock."

Ichigo locked eyes with his one-time adversary. "Bring her to the Kurosaki Clinic. It's closer."

Aizen looked searchingly at him for a moment, and then nodded. "Very well." He looked around behind him. "Gin. Why don't you bring the car, and drive us all there?"

The silver-haired teen nodded, still smiling. "Of course, Aizen-san."

XxXxXxX

Grimmjow slouched lower in the seat of the car when he saw the group emerge from the warehouse door. Several people appeared to be in handcuffs as they were led off to a waiting police car. The policemen with them talked briefly to a smaller group, and then walked away. Grimmjow spotted a flash of silver hair as Ichimaru exited from a car he had just driven up. Aizen had one arm around Orihime—how did she get there? —as he supported her and helped her gently into the back seat of the car. Then he turned and helped another youth into the car. Grimmjow saw bright orange hair as the kid passed under a streetlamp and his eyes widened. Kurosaki? He shook his head. What had happened in there? And where was Nnoitra? The man had ordered him to wait for him here, but if he didn't show up soon, Grimmjow was going to take off. And where was Luppi? He'd been sneaking around earlier; Grimmjow had spotted him heading away from the warehouse back entrance. Nnoitra had said the skinny git was going to wait for them and meet them in front of the warehouse too.

Sighing, Grimmjow drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He wondered whether he should just leave. He had a sneaking feeling that whatever Nnoitra had been trying hadn't gone off as planned. This definitely smelled like one of Aizen's convoluted plans. It had that oddly familiar feeling of controlled chaos, where things kept going wrong but then were redirected by one of Aizen's multitude of backup plans into serving his purposes once again.

Under the streetlamp ahead, Ichimaru held open the passenger seat door for Aizen and then got in the driver's seat. As they drove off, they passed by Grimmjow's parking spot. The blue-haired teen turned his head and his eyes met Aizen's only a few feet away. The man was smiling faintly.

Then the car was gone.

XxXxXxX

The precinct was humming with activity. The buzz of conversation was excited; faces were flushed and grins broke out on people's faces. There was a feeling of satisfaction in the air in the bullpen as Rukia made her way over to Renji's desk.

The redhead was tipped all the way back in his chair with his feet up on his desk, idly tossing a small ball up in the air and catching it. As Rukia approached he sat up and grinned at her. "The report's all written up," he said, reaching across his desk and handing her a copy. "Thought you'd like to see it right away."

She nodded her thanks and started looking it over. She read for a few moments in silence, and then looked up at her colleague with a satisfied nod. "Great job, Renji," she said. "You've got Urahara, Hirako, and Tessai in custody. Jinta and Ururu have been released to the care of their parents. I don't think anybody's going to complain about the shooting death of Nnoitra Jiruga, the notorious 'Captain' of Hueco Mundo."

Renji frowned. "That trigger-happy bastard Kenpachi didn't have to shoot him."

"It says here he was trying to escape from police custody. Was he?" Rukia's eyes focused on Renji's.

"Well, yes, but..."

Rukia interrupted him. "Then that's all we need to know. I don't like Kenpachi's record either, but I had prior experience with Nnoitra." She shivered involuntarily. "The guy was an absolute bastard." She picked up the stack of notes. "Really. The world's better off without him. God knows how many crimes the 'Captain' of Hueco Mundo committed."

Renji's face smoothed out. "Yeah. You're right. Hey, and have you heard about the other simultaneous busts? They got dozens of gang members dealing Breakdown. I think we've arrested most of Hueco Mundo."

Rukia's eyes lit and she smiled at Renji. "Congratulations to us, then. It's good when it goes the right way for once, isn't it?"

Renji nodded. "You bet." He grinned back at her fiercely. It was good to win.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**A/N: Warning:** angst. This is a sad chapter. If you don't want to deal with the angst and would rather have an ending where Orihime and Aizen stay together, please **skip** this chapter and read my standalone chapter **"Alternate Ending to Love Me Bitterly Chap. 20A"**. You can find it on my profile as a separate one-shot.

(Originally posted 5/20/2011.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime opened her eyes, surprised for a moment she wasn't in her apartment. She smelled antiseptic and heard a heart monitor beeping somewhere, then looked around at the cheerful and brightly painted walls of the Kurosaki Clinic, and everything came rushing back. Nnoitra attacking her, being taken to that warehouse, being held as a hostage… she shivered.

"Hey." The orange-haired youth coming in the door, a bandage around his leg, frowning, was so familiar, so _normal_ that Orihime almost started crying. She felt that her life hadn't been normal for a long time.

"Kurosaki-kun," she said, smiling brilliantly at him. "How's your leg?"

He sat down on an orange molded plastic chair by the side of her bed and grinned at her. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a flesh wound. Not a big deal." He looked embarrassed. "But what about you? How are you feeling?"

She moved her head slightly, touched a hand to her forehead. "Actually, I feel fine!" she chirped. "I'm sure I can go home soon and give this bed to someone who needs it more."

He scowled at her. "No, you're not going home until my dad has checked you out, Inoue. That was a nasty concussion you ended up with there."

"Oh, it's okay," Orihime insisted. "But I suppose it's fine for me to wait until Kurosaki-san discharges me." She added, "It's very kind of you to take care of me here."

Ichigo rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "Don't worry about it, Inoue. It's the least we could do."

She said, "I wanted to thank you for shooting Nnoitra and getting him to drop that gun he was holding on me."

"Oh," said Ichigo, embarrassed, "it wasn't anything." He looked away for a moment, and then continued. "Aizen was the one who got him to take the gun off of you." He scratched his ear and scowled down at the floor. Then, the words all tumbling out in a rush, he said, "He actually risked his life there. Nnoitra easily could have shot him. I would never have thought he would do that." He looked directly at Orihime and blurted out, "I—I guess I was wrong about him. I just thought—well, it doesn't matter what I thought. I guess I kind of made an ass of myself." He stopped, turned red. "I… I wish you lots of happiness with him, Inoue." He looked away.

Orihime's heart sank. For a moment, she had forgotten about all the conflicts she had been having with Aizen lately, the shocking knowledge of who he truly was. It was strange. She knew she should feel grateful to Aizen for helping save her life, but she couldn't stop the fierce suspicion that had arisen in her that he had somehow staged the whole event. She hated herself for it, but she found herself even wondering if Nnoitra had kidnapped her on his orders. She turned her face away from Ichigo. "Yeah," she said dully, not really wanting to think about it. "Thanks."

"Oh ho ho, the sleeping princess is awake!" Isshin's booming voice cut across the awkward moment as the boisterous man strode into the room and came to Orihime's side. "How's your head feeling today, Inoue-san?"

Ichigo scowled at his father and looked ready to defend himself from a punch, but much to Orihime's relief, the two Kurosakis didn't get into it with each other. She was glad, because it would have been upsetting to see Ichigo fighting with his leg still bandaged.

She smiled up at Isshin. "Fine, Kurosaki-san. Everything feels very good. And I'm very grateful to you for taking care of me."

"Eh," he muttered, rubbing his neck, "it's really nothing. We're happy to do it. And actually, I'd rather have you as a patient than all those Breakdown addicts." He sighed and a look of profound worry settled over his face. "I don't know what's going to happen to them now that they've shut down the supply."

"But isn't that good news, Kurosaki-san?" asked Orihime.

"Well, of course it's good news. There won't be any new addicts now. But for these poor kids," he gestured in the direction of the larger public ward, "they have a rough time ahead of them. They're addicted to a substance that isn't being made any more. I'm doing the best I can to make them comfortable, but they're all going to be going through some very painful withdrawal symptoms." He looked grave. "Some of them, I'm afraid, won't make it."

Orihime drew her brows down. "You mean, they might die?" Her voice almost cracked on the final syllable.

Isshin gave a heavy sigh. "I'm afraid so. Breakdown is a nasty, nasty drug. Once you get it into you, it doesn't let go of you easily." He scowled, and for a moment the resemblance to his son was striking. "The pisser is, the goddamn city has refused to give me any funding for Breakdown addicts. They say that 'the scourge of Breakdown is now over.'" He lowered his brows in a hard sneer. "Unctuous bastards," he growled. "We've got people here who might be damaged permanently, who are at risk of dying because the cops were too slow to shut down the drug dealers in time, and the goddamn city is crying poor. The mayor is basically absent, and Police Chief Yamamoto is just his mouthpiece."

"Hey!" said Ichigo, scowling as well. "The cops did as good a job as they could. It wasn't their fault it was a tough case to crack. That Urahara turned out to be a pretty slick guy."

"Hah!" said Isshin. "My son the substitute police officer is loyal to his new department! I'm proud of him, but of course that's what you'd expect from him having such a fine, upstanding father." He gave one of his idiot grins. "On the other hand, he still has a lot to learn. I mean, getting shot on a routine mission? Hey Ichigo—yow!" He stopped suddenly, hand to his nose. Ichigo had just punched him hard in the face, scowling ferociously. "Hey, what'dja do that for!"

But Ichigo didn't respond, as he was looking at a new visitor who had just come in the door. "Ichigo, you really should stop getting in fights with that bullet wound," said the newcomer. It was Rukia, her black hair gleaming, dressed in a neatly pressed police uniform. She grinned at the group and greeted everyone warmly. "Ichigo, I wanted to thank you for your work that night. Largely thanks to your help, we were able to bust a major drug and crime ring, and get Breakdown off the streets." She glanced at Isshin. "You must be very proud of your son. He did some real important police work as a volunteer. We're all really grateful to Ichigo. As a matter of fact, I think the mayor's going to give him a medal." She grinned at him.

Ichigo scowled. "Just what I need, a long time waiting around for the pompous ass to shake my hand and give me a piece of pot metal."

"Ichigo!" said Rukia, glaring like she wanted to punch him but was stopping herself because of his wound. Then she turned her head at a sound from the front door and smiled again. Another visitor had come to the door of Orihime's room.

He paused for a moment at the threshold, his brown eyes sharp and intelligent, his face calm as he surveyed the group inside the room. Everyone's eyes turned to him. As always, Aizen appeared elegant and composed, dressed in a fine cream silk shirt over neatly pressed black slacks, both of which flattered the lines of his body and his long, leanly muscled limbs.

"Greetings, everyone. I'm pleased that Orihime has so many friends to keep her company during this difficult time." His deep voice was soft, but resonated throughout the room.

His eyes went to Orihime, lying on the bed, as her eyes locked with his. Then he moved gracefully inside, pulling out a chair beside Orihime's bed and lowering himself into it, his eyes never leaving hers as he reached out for her hand.

Rukia spoke first. "Aizen-san! I was just telling Ichigo he was going to be getting a medal from the mayor. You're getting one too." She smiled broadly at him. "Thanks to your hard work, we've shut down a big-time drug operation, and arrested a whole slew of gangbangers. The city of Karakura thanks you."

Aizen's expression remained neutral. He kept his gaze on Orihime and wrapped his fingers around her hand. "I didn't really do anything other than a bit of playacting. It was you, Kuchiki-san, who planned everything out and ran the whole operation." He turned his gaze briefly to Rukia. "I was very impressed at how skillfully you sprung the trap on them. That was a highly effective sting. Very intelligently planned."

Rukia shook her head, frowning, and made a dismissive gesture. "No, I want to give credit where credit is due. You guys all did a wonderful job. Aizen-san, you really exceeded my expectations, I have to admit."

But Aizen was no longer listening. He was focused on Orihime's face as she listened to Rukia, his face oddly vulnerable as he waited to hear what she would say after hearing Rukia's words. "Orihime. How are you feeling today?"

Orihime looked at him, hearing the double meaning in his question, seeing his apparent concern for her, but feeling only sadness. She realized that even though she was hearing the confirmation of Sousuke's story from Rukia's lips, she had no way to know whether Rukia was truly a police officer, or if she was in Sousuke's pay. Or both. There was simply no way to know what was reality and what was illusion around him. He could have staged that entire event last night. She just had no way to know. And she would never have any way to know. "Thank you for coming to see me, Sousuke." Her voice was neutral, her face impassive. She could see his face close up slightly at her tone, and her heart ached for a moment. Then she thought of the Breakdown patients dying in the other ward, and a memory of one of her recent conversations with him surfaced.

"_Sousuke, Kurosaki told me that the police have traced Breakdown to Hueco Mundo. That the gang is the only seller of the drug." She stared at him, her hands on her hips. _

_He shrugged, looked mild. "Do you always believe whatever Kurosaki says?"_

_Her lips tightened. "You know what I'm asking you, Sousuke. Are you or are you not selling Breakdown?"_

"_I personally have never sold it, no."_

_Fury rose up in her. "That's not what I mean and you know it! Is your gang responsible for all the Breakdown addicts?"_

_He sat up suddenly, met her eyes intensely. "Responsible? Absolutely not! Drug use is something individuals choose for themselves. As a matter of fact, it offends me that you're trying to blame me for the stupidity of others."_

"_But you're making huge profits on that 'stupidity.'"_

_He smiled now. "It's not my fault if others are stupid. It's not my job to protect people from themselves." He leaned back, relaxed. "Come now, what good would that do? Does it even make sense?"_

_Suddenly, Orihime could only think of Kurosaki and his ferocious desire to protect others, no matter what the cost, no matter how powerful the opponent. While Aizen… was trying to logically explain why he wasn't responsible. She stared at the brown-haired teen, her breath coming short and fast. How could she argue with him? She didn't have any logical arguments… only the irrational ones about morality and ethics that he scorned._

_Then he smiled at her and took her hand in both of his. "Please. Let's not fight about this. I will compromise with you. I hear your position although I do not agree with it. So for you— just for you— I will agree to stop any connections to Breakdown. Will that satisfy you?" He gazed at her intently. "I promise, I will allow you to be my conscience in this matter, to guide my actions. Will that please you?"_

_She turned away, disturbed, and hunched her shoulders. "Sousuke, I just— I just don't know." _

She sighed as she looked up at him, at the others standing around the room. "I'm actually feeling fine physically," she told them all. "Thank you for your concern." Her eyes went to Isshin. "I'd really like to get home as soon as possible."

He grinned. "I'm sure we can handle that, Inoue-san." He looked at the others. "All right, now, everybody clear out so I can examine my patient."

Aizen turned to go with the others, outwardly polite, but she had seen the flash in his eyes. She couldn't tell— was it anger, or sorrow?

XxXxXxX

The precinct office was bustling as usual the next morning as Rukia knocked on Ukitake's door.

"Come in," he called from within. When she opened the door and met his eyes, he was smiling. "Rukia," he said. "Congratulations. That was a fabulous job on the Breakdown case."

Rukia allowed herself an answering smile. "Thank you, sir. It was the toughest case I've ever had."

He smiled at her warmly. "I know." He swiveled in his chair, turning toward the ancient radiator and the dented blinds covering the window. Then he turned back to her. "I thought you'd like to see the final report. The mayor's going to give you a commendation, you know."

Rukia grunted. "As if I care about that."

"No." His voice was gentle. "But you care about justice, and because of your work, justice has been served. The prosecutor's office sent over the paperwork. Kisuke Urahara and Shinji Hirako are going to be tried not just for conspiracy and drug trafficking, but also on multiple counts of murder. We have at least two hundred thirty-seven cases of deaths directly attributable to Breakdown. And Urahara and Hirako, as the manufacturers of the drug, are going to go to jail for a hundred years."

Rukia returned a cynical tilt of an eyebrow. "That's assuming they don't get off on some technicality. I already saw their attorney filing motions to release them. They've got Yoruichi Shihoin." Ukitake winced at the name of the top criminal defense attorney in the city as Rukia continued. "You know she's going to get them off. Apparently some of the evidence may not have been collected properly."

Ukitake sighed and then shook his head. "Even if they do get off, Rukia, you've done the most important work. You've gotten Breakdown off the streets, and we've shut down the Hueco Mundo gang. With our final sweep, we traced all remaining large shipments of Breakdown to Karakura Town, and arrested seventy-eight individuals involved in drug sales. We seized all the extant stashes of Breakdown, and the formula has been destroyed.

"Even if they got out, and if they were able to reconstruct the formula, they wouldn't dare start manufacturing it again. Breakdown can never appear on the streets again; we're watching now, and we would snap them up before it got too bad. We've also broken the back of one of the most vicious gangs in this city's history. Their leader is dead and many of his followers are going to rot in jail for a long time.

"You've done a tremendous amount of good, regardless of whether you get personal revenge on these people." He leaned back in his battered old green swivel chair, and smiled at her. "You've stopped a dangerous drug from taking any more innocent lives. This entire town is grateful to you, and you've stopped the spread outside the city, so you've potentially prevented a nationwide scourge. You should be very proud of yourself. I know I am."

XxXxXxX

Orihime walked in the door of her apartment, glad to be home in her familiar old place. It seemed that it had been so long ago that Nnoitra had burst his way in, but it had really been only a couple of days. She thought everything would be a mess, burnt food on the stove, her door hanging open… but someone had been there when she was in the clinic, had cleaned everything up, left things in order.

It was as though she hadn't been violently kidnapped from her own home only two days ago. There wasn't even blood on the coffee table where she had banged her head.

She sat down at the card table that served her as a dining table. Someone had even gathered her mail and stacked it neatly on the table. One piece of mail struck her immediately— a large, fat white envelope with a return address of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

A fat envelope— a good sign. Her heart leaped up in her chest, pounded furiously as she tore open the envelope and began reading. Joy rushed through her as she read the first word of the letter.

"Congratulations."

XxXxXxX

Ten minutes later, her head was in her hands; she felt as though a blow had struck her and had chased all the warmth and happiness from her life. On top of being kidnapped, then breaking up with Sousuke, this just seemed like the final straw. She looked again at the letter open before her, the print swimming in her eyes. Her life's dream, there on the table before her, offered to her and then snatched away in the very same envelope, in less than ten minutes. Bitterly, she considered what a cruel joke it was.

She picked up the letter idly, read it one more time.

"Congratulations!" the letter read. "You have been offered admission to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology." She read further to where they stated that the professor she had been dreaming of working with was hoping to meet with her during an upcoming visit. She sighed and dropped the letter.

It didn't matter. The fat packet also contained her financial aid package. She had read through it a few times already. They were basing her Expected Family Contribution on the salary of one of her distant relatives, despite the fact that he had written a letter to the college saying that he felt his obligation to his young relative stopped at age 18, and that he would no longer contribute to her financial upkeep. In other words, he would give her nothing, but the college refused to accept that. Their estimate of her EFC, what she was expected to pay for, was nearly twenty thousand dollars a year. It was true that they were giving her grants, work study, and loans totaling thirty thousand a year, but expecting her to come up with an additional twenty thousand was the equivalent of telling her to fly to the moon.

She had no money. Realistically, she couldn't even afford to pay two thousand a year. She couldn't even afford to go to the local state university, much less the school that she'd always dreamed of attending. Even if she worked full-time at minimum wage in addition to going to school, her full salary before taxes wouldn't hit twenty thousand. Even if she worked overtime at the bakery this year, and saved every penny that didn't go to taxes and rent, it wouldn't be nearly enough. And they wouldn't even give her loans for it, thanks to the tyranny of the EFC, notwithstanding the question of whether it was a wise decision to go into debt so early in her life. She clenched her fists in hopeless despair. She was trapped. She would be poor all her life, working for minimum wage at the bakery like the elderly woman who had once told her she had worked there for forty years. The woman was always short on food; Orihime knew because the bakery management made sure to give her an extra helping of day-old rolls each evening.

There was no way she would ever become a biochemist, no way she would ever do the work she had always dreamed of doing. Her dream was over before it had even started.

Unbidden, her mind turned to her conversations with Aizen, and the bitterness in his words that she remembered but hadn't really understood at the time. _"The only way out of poverty in this country is education, Orihime, and they took that away from me too… They always claim there's plenty of help for the poor in this country, but that's only if you have an adult willing to work the system for you."_

It was ironic, she thought, that she had asked him to give up his illegal sources of income just before she truly understood for the first time how important it had been to him.

She gave a long sigh. She realized that it all wasn't necessarily over; she still had a choice; she could go to him, even now, and explain the situation. Twenty thousand dollars was probably nothing for him… merely small change for the Captain of Hueco Mundo. She shivered. He would undoubtedly help her… but what would be the price?

She firmed her lips and sat up straight. No. The one thing that she still had was her integrity. She would never accept the money he had made from others' suffering and death. Better to give up everything rather than lose her own soul.

She picked up the folder from the table and marched over to the plastic bin that held recycling. She took a deep breath, dropped the folder into the bin, and then went back to her kitchen to start chopping vegetables for dinner.

XxXxXxX

The tiny, black-haired girl put her hands on her hips and glowered up at Ichigo in triumph. "See?" she said with satisfaction. "It was Urahara and Hirako all along. Your suspicions about Aizen were wrong."

Ichigo snorted ruefully. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right!" Rukia said. "I'm always right."

Ichigo stared at her. Then he chuckled. "Yeah. That's right, midget." Then he dodged to the side to avoid her fist. He came up again, grinning. "Hey. It was good working with you.

She stopped and looked up at him. "Yeah. We were a good team," she said softly. She gazed directly at him, and he saw deep emotion in those violet eyes.

"Yeah," he said. "We were." He looked into her eyes, suddenly dismayed at the past tense of the verb. "Do we have to stop working together? There's still so much to do." He realized that this girl who had come into his life like a whirlwind was going to be gone as suddenly. In the emptiness of his last year of high school, filled with nothing but tests and studying during the days, and then the long, dreary nights at the clinic, seeing so much illness and death this year, Rukia had been one of the few bright spots. First, he had thought of her as a good friend his own age. And then, even after he had learned her true purpose at Karakura High, they had still been close friends and colleagues. He had thought of her as a mentor then. They had worked together to protect others. He was going to miss her friendship, her fiery nature… he'd even miss her great right jab. He rubbed his chin ruefully.

Rukia was gazing at him with regret in her large eyes. "Ichigo. You know we can't work together any more. I'm a cop and an adult, and you're a high school student with a brilliant future ahead of you. We both have lives to save, but we each have to do it in our own way." She paused. "I have to go now. I have my job to do, and you have your life to live." Her look was intense now. "Goodbye, Ichigo. You won't be seeing me again."

She turned and began to walk away slowly. He said nothing more, but simply stood there and watched as she walked down the street, away toward the border of Karakura Town, and as she gradually became smaller and smaller until she turned one last corner and vanished.

XxXxXxX

Aizen leaned back in his chair in the small office, a small smile on his face as he heard Gin's report. The silver-haired teen stood across the desk from him, watching his leader carefully.

"Ah," Aizen commented with satisfaction, "how thoughtful of the police to do such a good job weeding out all my competition." He nodded at the slip of paper he had received from Kaname earlier that afternoon. "Seventy-eight members of the Eastside gang, of the Twenty-Second Street gang… anyone who could possibly be a threat to me, taken in a clean sweep. Plus, the traitors from within Hueco Mundo itself, all disposed of." He stretched like a cat, his eyes gleaming. "Not a bad night's work."

Gin stood still, hiding anything he might have felt behind his usual enigmatic smile. "Yes, I saw that," he said. "It was quite an elaborate scheme, Aizen-sama. Didn't ya think it coulda been done in a less roundabout manner?"

Aizen returned his gaze. "Do you have any objections to how it was managed?"

"Wellll, not objections, really. More like… questions. I was jus' wonderin' if ya had Zaraki in yer pay or if ya simply knew he would shoot Nnoitra. An' was Nnoitra acting on yer orders the whole time or did ya set him up? Didja know he was gonna kidnap yer woman?"

Aizen smiled. "No, Zaraki isn't on my payroll, and I certainly did not give Nnoitra orders to rebel against me."

Gin gazed at him from beneath his eyelids. "But you knew Zaraki and Nnoitra would react that way."

Aizen stood up and walked to the window, where he stood gazing out at the trees in the park below. "Perhaps."

"Didja plan for Nnoitra to kidnap Inoue?"

Aizen swung away from the window and faced his lieutenant, heat of a kind Gin rarely saw blazing in his eyes. "Of course not. Ulquiorra was supposed to be guarding her, but Nnoitra sent Tesla and a couple of other idiots to detain him. While she was left open, he kidnapped her." The look in his eyes was dangerous. "All of them have been dealt with." His face smoothed out and a slight smirk tugged at his lips. "It all worked out quite well in the end."

The silver-haired youth sighed. "But it was kind of a risky method. If ya were plannin' on punishin' them rebels after ya got 'em all together, I'm surprised ya did it that way." He put his hand on his knife, half-turned. "If ya'd brought me into it, I would've been happy to have killed 'em for ya real quick."

Aizen returned to his seat, propped his chin on his knuckles and lidded his eyes, gazing at Gin for a long moment before replying. "But that… would have been boring, wouldn't it, Gin."

Gin looked taken aback for just a moment. "Oh," he said, a note of surprise in his voice.

XxXxXxX

Aizen had decided to go to her apartment, although she had said she didn't want to see him. The scene at the clinic had not worked out the way he had hoped, but it was because there were so many people around that he had to act in front of. He had wanted to talk with her one-on-one, to get her to see reason.

However, the conversation was not going as planned.

"Have you really done all those things…?" she whispered. "What they say the Captain has done? All those horrible, horrible things?" Her eyes were wide, her fists clenched tightly in her lap.

He sighed. "Of course not. It's an illusion, my dear. What do you think is more likely to keep those loose-cannon Espada in line? If they think I'm an overly intellectual nerd with a flair for manipulation and trickery? Or if they are convinced I'm an utterly evil, selfish bastard with an unpredictable murderous streak, a violent past a mile long, who has all the authorities in his pocket? What do you think will be more effective to keep them working together and not killing each other off? If their leader is a polite man, or if that politeness is only a cover for a vicious killer who doesn't even remember how many deaths he's left behind?"

Orihime was staring, her eyes unable to leave his face, her voice struck dumb.

He spoke softly. "They follow me because they are full of fear. They find my clarity inspiring; it shines like the moon. To them, everything is illuminated by it. Yet it's all smoke and mirrors; to them, I am the moon reflected in the water."

"What is the real you, Sousuke? What is your true personality? Do you even know, after all the smoke and mirrors?"

"To you, I'll tell the truth… I have many personalities within me… and I can choose which one to display at any time." He reached out, stroked her hair. She sat like a statue, as though she could not feel his touch. "The truth is, in my deepest self, I detest taking life… it's such a waste. But to the Captain, life means nothing. He kills without thought, without compunction. And so they follow him and obey his every whim, quaking in terror." He smiled at her. "You have no idea how effective the threat of death is. And so much less costly than actual murder. No bodies to dispose of, no cops to pay off… and it fits in so well with my image. The bodies must have been mysteriously disposed of by my extremely effective organization. The cops are all in my pay. No one dares cross me, and all because of these terrifying rumors about the Captain." His eyes gleamed.

Orihime was sitting as though petrified, her eyes wide and staring. Just listening to Aizen talk was terrifying. Did he truly have no conception of how frightening he was to her right now? Even his rationalizations… had gone beyond the pale.

With a sudden shock to her core, she realized that there was no way she could ever be with this man. There was no way she could love him or even like him. What he was was antithetical to everything she was, everything she believed in. That he even thought that some deaths might be acceptable, that it could possibly be even tolerable to terrify everyone around you with the fear of death.

Something must have gone terribly wrong inside him, she realized. Something was broken deep within him and it was beyond her power to fix. All she could do was walk away.

Aizen could see it in her eyes. He was losing her. Telling her the truth was destroying her love for him. Desperately, he tried to talk faster, tried to get her to understand. He could not lose her. He would not lose her.

"Orihime." He took both her hands in his. "My knowledge of human nature tells me that the best thing to do now would be to plead with you, to beg you to stay with me. I could manipulate you into doing so now." He shook his head, his eyes intense. "But as a demonstration of good faith, I am being utterly honest with you instead. I'm doing exactly as you asked, simply telling you the truth."

Orihime gazed at him in anguish. How many times had he manipulated her emotions, gotten her to believe whatever he wanted, spoken with such sincerity in his voice and eyes? "I'm sorry, Sousuke."

"Come with me," he said. "I promise you I'll leave all this behind. I'm going to Harvard in the fall; I can start a new life… with you."

"Sousuke… I just don't know… if I can live with all the things you've done."

"Can't you forgive me and allow me a fresh start? I admit that my conscience has been numb for many years. But maybe you can bring it back. And in the meantime, I'll let you be my conscience as I promised. I will only do things you approve of." He gazed at her with utter sincerity and she felt her heart ache; she wanted to weep.

"I… just don't know."

"Orihime. I've told you why I made the choices I made. Everything I said was true. I only went around the law because I had no legal options. But now I'm an adult. I can start operating legally."

"But would you be willing to obey the law, when cheating would get you so much faster to your goal? You've grown accustomed to getting your own way, regardless of society's rules. I don't think you can go back to playing by the rules."

"Why not?" He smiled. "It's a game, a challenge. You know I love those. To get what I want by playing by the rules." He stroked her hair. "And besides, you know I've always been personally motivated. Now you would be my motivation."

"Sousuke… I can't tell any more what are illusions or what are truths from you. You've completely confused me. I don't know what is the real you. I don't even know if it exists."

He held her close. She sat stiffly in his arms. "I'm here. I'm real. This is real. I love you. Can't you just accept that? Can't you accept me?" His voice was soft, persuasive.

But it didn't matter any more. She was beyond his persuasion, at long last. At last, she truly knew what he was like. She had stopped going back and forth over her feelings for him. It still hurt. God, it hurt. But she knew what she had to do.

Crying inside, she pushed him aside and stood up. "No. I'm sorry, Sousuke. I don't want to drag this out any longer. We've all had to make hard choices. I just can't live with the choices you've made. That's all there is to it." A tear leaked out of one of her eyes and she could feel it trailing down her cheek. "I'm sorry. But I think it would be best if you left now."

Aizen looked up at her from where he sat on the couch. Her eyes were tightly closed, the tears leaking out of them faster and faster. He thought about all the methods he could use to turn her to his way of thinking, how he could win this game as he had always won. As always, his mind arrowed directly to the most straightforward means of obtaining his desires.

The answer, rising from the depths of his consciousness, was clear. It was the moment to turn to the time-tested methods for control and intimidation that he had used so successfully to hold sway over so many others. Sinuously his mind whispered to him. It would be so easy. She was powerless, after all. She had nothing… except friends. Friends that were only weaknesses that could be used against her. Threats of violence always worked so beautifully well.

He could see the possible paths laid out before him like spokes in a wheel. He could threaten her. He could capture her. He could threaten her friends. He could _make_ her stay with him. He could _own_ her, the way he owned so many others. It was so easy to bend others to his will. He need only open his mouth, say the words that would bring her into line.

She would become yet another pliant toy in his hands. Another one of the creatures who served him, body and soul. She would never dare to leave.

All he had to do was say the right words. He could stop telling her the truth, and begin lying to her again. She would never know the difference.

She would never love him again.

The woman he loved would never exist again.

Every moment, there was a choice. A choice to order one's actions, to sculpt one's own soul. One never goes so far down a dark path that there is no choice. There is always an opportunity for some small redemption, some hope in the midst of irretrievable darkness.

He opened his mouth… and slowly let out a long, long breath. There was anger, frustration, and something else in his dark eyes as he stood up. "Part of me is telling me now to put the screws on you, to threaten you. Stay with me or die." He let out another long sigh, and then turned away. "I could do that, but I won't. Goodbye, Orihime." Turning back, he bent his head, gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, and turned to go.

At the threshold, he paused, glanced at her. He could not resist the parting shot. "You realize, Orihime, that once we are no longer together, I shall feel no need to obey the dictates of a conscience." His voice was silky. "I shall operate whenever and however I wish." He smiled, showing her the tips of his sharp teeth. "Think of that, too, and what it means for the lives of others, when you think of what you are giving up."

Then he walked out the door without looking back.

XxXxXxX

_Besides, he thought to himself, he was a patient man. It was clear that now was not the right time to act. He needed time to establish himself as a legitimate businessman, and it was true that she would be a distraction during his time in college, as he was building his contacts and power. Perhaps it would be best if he waited. There would always be time to retrieve her later… to win her to his side when there would no longer be any need to lie… when he would have the respect and admiration of all, the connections with the establishment, the power and wealth… everything he had always planned. She would come to him willingly then. Yes. That is the best plan after all, he thought. __I'm distancing myself from her as planned. But she will remember me, and always long for me._

_I will make sure she remembers me._

_He smiled._


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**Warning:** angst, violence, and character death. But there is hope at the end!

(Originally posted 5/27/2011.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime almost didn't want to go to school that morning. She knew she would see him, and she didn't want to. She didn't want to have to deal with all the explanations to her friends, all the questions.

Slowly, she put on her school clothes and packed her backpack. She made sure everything was well arranged, and she brushed her teeth carefully. Then, her feet dragging, she set off out the door and down the street toward school. She had left later than usual, so that she would arrive just as the final bell rang. The last thing she wanted today was to run into Tatsuki and Chizuru at their lockers in the morning.

She had actually cut it a little closer than she thought, so she had to run the last few minutes to make it to her first class on time. But she did, and she heaved her backpack to the floor beside her seat as the bell rang. Out of breath and sweating, she attempted to focus on what the teacher was saying.

Although, she sighed to herself, what was the point in paying attention in school anymore? She didn't need good grades to work in the bakery. Nevertheless, she got out her book as the teacher directed. It was hard to give up the habit of being a good student.

School seemed to drag. She kept half looking out for Aizen in the halls, and not seeing him. She dreaded going to math class, because he would be there and she would have to avoid making eye contact. But when she got there, he was not in his usual seat. The bell rang and he still hadn't arrived. Puzzled, she got out her homework. He rarely missed math class.

When the bell rang for lunch, she dumped her papers and books in her locker and shuffled off to the lunchroom. She passed by the table for two where she and Aizen usually sat and walked further back into the room, to her old table, where Tatsuki and Chizuru were already sitting.

The two girls looked up in surprise.

"Eh, what's this? Are you slumming today?" asked Chizuru with a grin.

"Yeah," added Tatsuki. "Where's Aizen-san today?"

Orihime slumped into the seat and bent her head so she could get her lunch out of her backpack. Not making eye contact with her friends, she muttered, "I don't know. We broke up yesterday."

Instantly, she could sense the concern and sympathy from them that she had so wanted to avoid.

"Oh, Orihime, I'm sorry." Tatsuki put her arm around her friend.

Chizuru's mouth was hanging open. "What happened? I thought you two were the perfect couple!"

"No," sighed Orihime, "it just didn't work out for us."

"But why?" persisted Chizuru.

"I guess…" said Orihime, pausing for a long time as she looked down at her sandwich. She wondered if she could ever tell them the truth, that Aizen was secretly the "Captain" of Hueco Mundo, the most feared man in the school, a gang leader who reputedly had the blood of dozens of people on his hands, a man she had witnessed ordering a cold-blooded killing. But no. That was too dangerous a secret to burden Tatsuki and Chizuru with.

Dully, she realized that she could go to the police, give them information. But she already knew that would not work. Aizen was too clever to allow himself to be caught. It was unlikely she would be believed. Certainly, she would have no evidence to back up her accusations. Besides, she knew him by now. He did have a code he operated by, although it was not what any normal person would call a moral code. If she did do something like that, he would retaliate. He would not threaten or hurt her directly. Instead, someone she cared about would die, likely in a way that would ostensibly look like an accident, but with a clear message meant specifically for her. She gave a long, long sigh.

And what did she really know, anyway? Much of it was innuendo, rumor. He had never really given her any specific details. And so much of what he had said to her was lies. She sighed again, knowing he would have known exactly how she would react. He would have known she would not talk. He knew how much she cared about her friends.

And there was his parting comment to her about it being her responsibility for his no longer obeying a conscience. She shook her head. No. Aizen's crimes would not be on her conscience. That was yet another of his attempts to manipulate her.

But despite it all, she realized that she was not afraid of him. She never had been, even at the end, when she had wondered what he was capable of, and had suspected the worst. Even though she had heard all the rumors, now, about the Captain of Hueco Mundo and his fearsome deeds, she still could not bring herself to be afraid of him. And part of her… still had feelings for him, despite everything she knew about him now. Part of her still longed for his intense brown eyes to look at her with the old affection, to hear his deep voice murmuring gently that he loved her. Despite all his crimes, despite all the lies, she knew he had truly loved her, in a way that no one had ever loved her before. Or maybe would ever again. Tears swam in her eyes at the magnitude of what she had lost, what she had given up. Even though she knew it was the only thing to do.

"We just wanted different things from the relationship," she said lamely. Then she stuffed a big bite of cheese sandwich into her mouth so she didn't have to talk.

She lifted her head, and across the cafeteria, she saw him enter, trailed by a group of students – what she now recognized as his entourage.

He was as elegant and graceful as ever, dressed in designer clothing again, his slender legs enclosed in tight-fitting black pants. Tousled brown bangs hung over the square black glasses as he laughed at something one of his companions had said. He appeared as calm as always; no one would have said you could see any sort of pain in his dark eyes. He was the center of a group, as usual; Gin and Kaname were following slightly behind him. They sat down at a larger table this time, and then a tall, athletic blonde woman sat down beside him. She was deeply tanned and had her hair tied back in three braids. She was wearing the white jersey of the school swim team, smiling at something one of the others had said. She raised her hand and Aizen caught it in one of his, murmuring something which made the whole group laugh.

Orihime vaguely knew her. She was a senior and one of the star swimmers on the school team. But she couldn't remember her name.

Aizen looked directly at the woman, and smiled. Even from this distance, Orihime could feel his charm. She could imagine hearing the seductive voice that she had once thought was reserved for her. Then, as she watched, unable to tear her eyes away from him, she saw him slide his elegant, long-fingered hand around the back of the woman's head, and bring his lips to hers.

Half-choking on a sob, she finally looked away, only to meet Chizuru's and Tatsuki's sympathetic glances.

"That was fast," muttered Chizuru with an indignant snort. "You broke up yesterday and he's already locking lips with Tia Harribel?"

Tia. That was her name. Orihime looked away. "It's fine. He can date anyone he pleases now. It's over between us."

Tatsuki was scrutinizing Aizen's table with a frown. "He certainly doesn't seem to have a care in the world. That's kind of callous. Unless he's just putting on an act." She looked at Orihime. "I never saw him with Tia before. Is she the reason he broke up with you?"

Orihime gave another long sigh. "It was mutual, Tatsuki. Can we please not talk about it? I want to get on with my life."

Her two friends exchanged glances. Then Chizuru said, "Sure, Orihime! Actually, I think it's good riddance. Men are such pigs." She grinned, and then made sure she drew back, out of range of Tatsuki's fists. "Now, this would be an excellent time for you to pick up a woman on the rebound…" She ducked, laughing, as Tatsuki's fist came at her anyway.

XxXxXxX

Gin watched as Aizen walked down the basement stairs for the gang meeting. He scanned his leader's face carefully for signs of emotion. It was, if anything, even more calm and placid than usual. He could detect nothing there.

Aizen moved to his seat and sat down with his usual grace, his eyes roaming over the gathered gang members. There were only a few missing. Ulquiorra was back, looking as stoic as ever, with only slight bruising visible on his face. Beside him crouched Loly, her face bleak and bitter as she stared up at her leader, her hopeless worship still visible in her eyes. He let his gaze pass neutrally over her, ignoring her. Tesla was gone, as were the rest of Nnoitra's little clique. All in all, mostly satisfactory. There were just a few loose ends to tie up.

He gestured with one finger, and two youths were pushed forward to stand before him.

One was a slight, dark-haired teen with bloodshot eyes, trembling and sniffing. The other was a blue-haired man with a ferocious scowl.

Aizen gazed at the two. "Luppi and Grimmjow," he said softly. "You are both accused of treason against me. Do you have any justification for your actions?"

Luppi whined, "I just did everything you wanted, Aizen-sama. I told the story to Urahara like you told me to."

"But you added something to that story, didn't you, Luppi." The brown-haired man's voice was gentle, and Luppi shivered.

"No, no, nothing," he insisted, but his eyes rolled around in their sockets.

"Liar," said Aizen casually. He shifted in his seat, rested his elbow on one of the armrests. Still looking down at Luppi with a faint smile on his face, he said, "You were also supposed to tail Urahara and Hirako to the warehouse, to make sure they proceeded with the plan. But instead, you chose to follow Nnoitra in his ill-conceived bid for power." Aizen's voice sharpened. "You knew he was plotting against me, and yet you did not come to me with that knowledge."

Luppi moaned and whimpered, "I was going to come to you, Aizen-sama..."

Aizen frowned. "Enough. I don't want to hear you speak any longer." He looked at the blue-haired youth. "And what of you, Grimmjow? Why were you at the warehouse that night, when you were supposed to remain in your bed at the clubhouse, which I was so kind to provide you with during your convalescence?"

Grimmjow swallowed. "I thought Nnoitra was acting on orders from you, so I followed his orders."

Aizen's smile widened as he gazed directly at the teen. "Oh really, Grimmjow." There was the faintest hint of scornful disbelief in his voice. "By the way, do you know who shot you that night?" He glanced at Luppi, who shrank back and looked belligerent.

Grimmjow stared at Luppi. He'd suspected, but hadn't known for sure. The bastard. He was going to kill him.

Aizen leaned back in the armchair. "It's been nearly a clean sweep, Grimmjow," he said softly. "All my enemies have gone down. It was a completely satisfactory operation. We've had to stop selling Breakdown, but we turned a tidy profit that we'll be able to walk away with when we move to Boston next year, while others go to jail in our place." He smiled. "Completely orderly, that is, except for you two. Now, what do you think I should do with you?"

There was deathly silence in the room. It sounded as though the gang members were holding their collective breath.

Aizen lidded his eyes, still smiling. "Actually… I feel the desire for some entertainment tonight, my friends." His eyes swept the room. "What do you think?" he mused. "Should we ask these two traitors to entertain us?"

There was a moment of hesitation as the members tried to get a sense of Aizen's mood, then a roar of approval from the gang as they picked up on his intention. Aizen's eyes gleamed. "Ah, it seems the crowd has spoken." He gestured to Tousen. "Kaname, the weapons, please."

The dark-skinned youth stepped forward and held up two long-bladed knives. Grimmjow stared at the weapons. What did that bastard Aizen have in mind now?

"The rules are simple." Aizen's voice was soft. "There are no rules. You two will fight to the death. If either of you tries to escape, he will be instantly put to death. The winner will receive a pardon for his crimes against me. Do you understand?" He looked at the black-haired youth. "Luppi?"

The boy glanced once at Grimmjow, with his left arm still in a sling, and then nodded, a sly look entering his eyes.

"Grimmjow?"

"Yeah, I understand," the blue-haired youth ground out. He understood very well that Aizen was playing another one of his twisted games with his subordinates. And that there was no escape. There would never be any escape from Aizen and his games. Not for him. He glanced narrowly at Luppi. Not that he minded taking out the bastard who had shot him in the back. He glowered at the kid. The addict would have been an easy target if Grimmjow had both arms. As it was, they were not completely unevenly matched. Not that the kid really had any chance against him. Goddamn him, why had he shot him? It didn't make sense that it was on Nnoitra's orders. Could it have been on Aizen's orders? But why? There must surely be a purpose behind all this.

He shrugged to himself. Not that he was ever likely to know. It seemed he was doomed to dance to Aizen's strings for the foreseeable future. He might as well get used to it. Anyway, there was no time to speculate. It was time to fight.

He took the knife Tousen handed him, hefted it, and checked its balance. Then he grinned, his eyes focused on Luppi. "Get ready to die, loser," he called out.

Luppi sneered in return. "You're the one who doesn't have a chance, you one-armed bandit."

"Begin," said Aizen.

Gin settled back against the wall, in partial shadows, his bland smile present on his face, as he watched the scene carefully. He watched not just the fighters, but also the faces of the gang members, and especially Aizen's expression.

The others had all drawn back, leaving a circle for the two of them to fight. Several called out encouragement or derision, but the two fighters ignored them. Luppi began sidling to the left around the circle, eyes fixed on Grimmjow. The two of them circled for several long moments, the only sound in the room their harsh breathing. Then Luppi leaped forward and struck downward with his knife, aiming for Grimmjow's left arm. Grimmjow parried and spun to the right, then attacked Luppi's exposed back. The smaller youth twisted away and dodged the strike. At that there were shouts and jeers from the audience.

Gin's eyes narrowed further as he watched the two fighters circle. Luppi was already breathing hard. He was trying to take advantage of Grimmjow's injury quickly, a good strategy— if he could get it to work in time. Grimmjow was larger, stronger, and in better physical shape. If Gin had had a chance to bet on this fight, he would have put it on the blue-haired youth. And clearly, he thought, flicking a quick glance at his leader, who was watching with a neutral expression, that must be what Aizen was expecting out of this. Not truly a fair fight, but an execution. Luppi's betrayal deserved punishment, and Aizen had chosen to make it public as a warning to other gang members. Grimmjow, despite his rebellious nature, had only been clumsy rather than deceitful.

The two combatants were still circling each other warily, sizing each other up before they attacked again. Then they approached each other once more in a flurry of blows. When they separated again, Grimmjow had nicked Luppi's arm and blood was flowing from it, dripping down his wrist, slicking his grasp on the knife.

Luppi took a firmer grasp on his knife and Grimmjow grinned. That was the weak spot. He moved in and struck again at the boy's hand, this time slashing it heavily so that Luppi gasped and dropped his knife.

Then Grimmjow drove in to his opponent suddenly, and in a move fast enough that many of the assembled watchers did not see it, plunged his knife hard into Luppi's belly. The smaller teen gasped out, "You bastard!" Then his voice turned into a gurgling, choking sound as he clutched at his belly, and then slowly crumpled to the floor.

Still watching from the shadows, Gin glanced at his leader from under lowered lids. Aizen's gaze was focused on Luppi's death throes, his eyes avid. As the smaller man finally stopped twitching, Aizen relaxed against the back of his chair, exhaling slowly, and then turned his gaze to the blue-haired teen. "Welcome back, sixth Espada."

At his words, a cheer erupted from around the room. Grimmjow bent, wiped his bloody knife on the other teen's clothes, and then stood to face Aizen. He was breathing heavily, and there was a wide grin on his face as he saluted his leader. "That's right," he said, cocky and swaggering again. "I'm back."

But beneath the swagger, Gin saw a shadow of resignation in Grimmjow's face. Another murder on his hands; another chain binding him to Aizen's will.

Grimmjow would belong to Aizen for life.

Gin, watching Aizen's face carefully, nodded to himself. He glanced around the room at the cheering audience, noting their pale faces beneath the jubilance, the partially covered shock, the dread that they might be the next victims of one of Aizen's games. His gaze passed over the body on the floor. Luppi had displeased Aizen once too often, and this was a reminder to everyone in the gang of what could happen to them if Aizen did not deem their actions acceptable. Gin could smell the sour scent of fear pervading the room, tainted with a faintly metallic whiff of blood. They were all afraid again, thought Gin. As they should be.

Aizen, on the other hand, was enjoying the spectacle. Although his face appeared as placid as always, Gin could see the glitter in his eyes.

Whatever effect Orihime Inoue had had upon Aizen, it was over. The hints of softness, of weakness— completely gone. The man that Gin had always known was back; the brilliant schemer with ice water in his veins and a cruel streak a mile long.

The man who would rise to the top, and who would lift all who followed him in his wake.

Gin's ever-present grin was the only expression showing on his face. But inside, he felt an odd kind of triumph. Aizen-sama was back as though he had never left.

XxXxXxX

"That is all," said Aizen. "The meeting is dismissed." His voice was as calm as if they had just had a friendly discussion of an everyday matter rather than having watched a bloody execution.

At his words, the gang members, avoiding eye contact with each other, moved towards the stairs with a soft shuffle of feet. No one spoke. There were a few furtive glances at the body on the floor; then their eyes quickly returned to staring straight ahead.

Aizen reclined in his chair, propping his chin on his knuckles, gazing at the backs of the departing students thoughtfully. Gin and Tousen remained in the room, as was their custom, waiting to see if Aizen had any additional instructions for them.

"Kaname," said Aizen. His voice was soft and almost gentle. "I have nothing further for you. You may go."

Tousen bowed and departed.

The furnace turned off with a loud clank, and then sat quietly ticking for a moment or two. Aizen gazed for a moment at the far corner of the room, pensive, saying nothing. Gin felt the chill in the air of the basement room increase.

Aizen sighed as he shifted in the chair. He reclined his head against the seat back and half-closed his eyes.

Then, "Gin," he said in a lazy drawl, gazing at Gin from beneath lidded eyes, "how long have you been my lieutenant?"

Gin stiffened. _He knew. He knew how Gin had manipulated the girl._ Fear coursed through his body and he tried not to glance at the dead youth lying on the floor beside him. Aizen was going to kill him; he could tell from the expression on the other man's face. The Aizen who killed without compunction was back, and ironically, Gin would pay the price.

Gin swallowed convulsively, but he kept smiling. "Eh, four, nearly five years now, Aizen-taichou."

"Ah," said Aizen. "That's since the beginning, isn't it?" His voice was soft, relaxed. To someone who didn't know Aizen, it might have even sounded affectionate.

"Tha's right, I've been with ya since before ya started Hueco Mundo." Gin stood straight and tried not to tremble. Aizen hated signs of weakness in his subordinates. But he could not help the cold sweat that had started out on his forehead, all over his body. Gin had been afraid for a long time, had always sought out the strongest person around him to ally himself with. Ever since middle school that had been Aizen, since the other youth had attracted him with his cold certainty, his utter fearlessness. He had attached himself to Aizen with tenacity, fought beside him ferociously, and demonstrated his loyalty over and over again. Killed for him. He had become Aizen's closest companion, his lieutenant, privy to many of his inmost secrets.

But he had never trusted the man. He had always known that he could turn on him at any time. And the feeling, he knew, was mutual.

Aizen rested his chin in his hand and gazed at Gin. "And in all that time, you've been quite loyal to me, haven't you?"

"That's right, sir," Gin said, keeping up his smile. Aizen was playing with him now. They both knew what was going to happen, but Aizen was drawing it out to amuse himself.

Gin's eyes flicked to the stairs, as he wondered almost involuntarily whether he could escape.

Aizen noted the flicker of his eyes, and his lips curled in a small smile. There would be no escape for Gin. There never was any escape for his subordinates. "What do you think, Gin, should be the punishment for someone who has been disloyal to me?"

Gin swallowed. "Eh, I s'pose it depends on the situation, Aizen-taichou."

Aizen smiled. "Ah, that's a good, evasive answer, Gin. What I might have expected from you." He straightened in his chair. "But let's suppose this person conspired against me. Tried to undermine my rule. Thought he could get away with it… but instead, I was able to acquire information on his plans."

_Kaname_, thought Gin, _that yellow coward. I shoulda known he would break_. "Well, that sounds really bad. But I s'pose ya could look at their record. Look at their motivations. What if they were only tryin' ta help ya?"

"Hmmm. You think that a good record, or good intentions, could make up for the betrayal? That I should forgive him outright for his crimes against me?" Aizen's deep brown eyes bored into Gin's.

The silver-haired youth squirmed. "Wellll," he said again, "what if he were tryin' ta save ya? Ta save ya from yerself? It might not be a bad idea to forgive a long-time subordinate, 'specially if they meant well, if they were still useful to ya."

"If they thought they knew better than me, that is also disloyalty. Gin." Aizen's voice was soft and deceptively warm again. "Have you ever known me to be forgiving?"

Slowly, Gin raised his eyes to his leader's. "No," he whispered.

Gin didn't see the motion, but in a flash Aizen was standing and had taken hold of him, one arm looped around his neck, a knife pressed against his throat. Gin caught his breath in terror. "No…" he gasped, "please, Aizen-sama…" His voice trailed away to a whisper as Aizen slid the knife ever so gently against his neck, just barely cutting the skin.

He could feel the sudden sting, could feel a warm trickling on his throat. "Please," he said again, his voice breaking.

Aizen's lips were against his ear; he could hear his chuckle deep in his throat. He was enjoying this. He knew Gin's fear of death and he was playing with it. Gin began to tremble uncontrollably, and he was afraid that his motions would cause the knife to slice more deeply into his skin. He could see the blood gushing out of his jugular in his mind's eye, and he quaked in abject fear in Aizen's iron grasp. He could not pull away from the man's ferocious strength. There was no escape. His mind battered against the cage ineffectually; what could he do?

"I should kill you," came Aizen's quiet voice. "But in light of your past loyal service…" He paused and allowed the silence to lengthen. Gin's breath came harsh and ragged.

"In light of your previous record of loyalty… I have decided to offer you a choice." Aizen's breath was warm on Gin's ear, amusement evident in his dark, resonant voice. He paused again, leaving enough of a period of silence to drive Gin from fear to despair and back again several times. Drawing out the suspense.

"Either… I take your life, or… I punish someone dear to you."

Gin's heart chilled even further, something he had not thought possible. There could only be one other, and Gin would have sworn he had kept his secret even from Aizen. But it seemed that Aizen knew everything. It was to be expected that he would have researched Gin's past but then kept his knowledge quiet.

_Gin had grown up on the streets. He no longer remembered his parents. He had been in an institution briefly and had run away. He was caught, placed with foster parents, and ran away again. Since then he had spent much of his life evading capture, avoiding the authorities._

_He was good at it. Good at eking out a living on the streets by begging, stealing, running odd jobs for the drug dealers and petty criminals. He went to school because they gave him free food. He lied about his address. He lied about everything, but he got by._

_He had no friends, until everything changed one day. He had been making his usual rounds one day when he saw a girl younger than him, with tangled blonde hair and filthy clothes scrounging in one of "his" garbage cans. He had been about to warn her away when she turned her pretty, dirty face toward him and he was caught by the intense blue of her large, wide eyes. Then those lovely blue eyes had rolled up in her head and she had collapsed on the street in front of him. Surprising himself, he had squatted down beside her, pulling out his latest treasure: a bar of chocolate stolen from the nearby drugstore._

"_Hey," he said._

_Those astonishingly blue eyes opened and fixated on him. He peeled open the candy bar, held it out to her. "Collapsin' from hunger ain't a good thing around here," he warned._

_Her eyes focused avidly on the chocolate and one hand came up to take the bar. Then she hesitated, looking at him fearfully. "Naw, it's okay," he said, trying to reassure her. "Ya can have it."_

_She sat up and took the chocolate, began eating it, eyes fervent but trying to go slowly. He watched her in silence for a moment._

_Then she asked him, "What's your name?"_

"_Gin," he said. "Gin Ichimaru."_

"_That's a strange name." She smiled, and the smile lit up her thin face._

"_Is it really?" he asked. "Then you have to tell me yours."_

"_Rangiku. Rangiku Matsumoto."_

_They had lived together then, in a cardboard refrigerator carton Gin had scavenged from the recycling truck, hidden under a rusty old fire escape in a decrepit alley. They watched each other's backs when they stole food, fought back to back against the other street kids, and huddled together for warmth at night in the old cardboard box. And they talked. She was the first person—the only person—Gin had ever opened up to, shared his feelings, fears, thoughts, and dreams with._

_Then one day the authorities had caught her. Gin hadn't realized what it meant to be lonely before, as he went back to the empty box, slept curled around himself, tried to haunt the orphanages and social services office in hopes of catching a glimpse of her. But weeks went by with no sight of her, until one morning he woke up to a hand scrabbling at the front flap of the box. Coming out angrily, his small knife in his hand, he had been surprised and delighted to see Rangiku._

_She looked wonderful. She was clean and she had new clothes. But she crawled into the box beside him and for a few moments it was just like the old days, with the two of them chattering away about everything again. It was as though she had never been gone. Gin had pressed her about her new foster family, and she had been evasive. It was okay, she said, but Gin could see the lie in her eyes. But then she said, crying, that she couldn't live on the streets any more. She liked being warm and indoors, safe from all the dangers of the street. She was willing to accept… (she looked away for a moment and hugged her arms over her breasts) poor treatment, in order to have the safety of a roof over her head._

_Gin was unhappy, but what did he have to offer her? After a couple of hours, she had left again, leaving him alone once more._

_At least she had promised to visit…_

_Ever since then, Gin had kept tabs on her, as she moved from foster family to foster family. He was sometimes able to steal some money, slip it to her. He had noticed she had started drinking, and he cautioned her about it, but she shook her head. She said that sometimes it was the only thing that kept her going, kept her alive. Gin said no more then._

_For the past few years, he had been saving money. Working for Hueco Mundo had its advantages. He had once dreamed that when he got out of high school, and Aizen moved off to college, that he would stay behind, find Rangiku, who would be turning 18 soon and out of the foster care system, and get them a real place to stay. Find a regular job. The two of them could be together, with an actual roof over both of their heads._

_He had always kept his attachment to Rangiku a secret, not mentioning it to anyone. For, as he well knew, attachments were a liability. A weakness._

"I don't know what you mean," he muttered, but his mind had filled with hopelessness. It was all over now.

"Oh?" came the lazy reply. Aizen's voice was redolent with amusement as he drew out the moment, savoring Gin's fear. "Doesn't the name Rangiku Matsumoto mean anything to you?"

Gin hadn't thought his heart could beat any faster. "No…" he whispered. "Don't kill her."

He could sense rather than see Aizen's smile. The man's lips were almost against his neck. "You haven't heard the choice yet." The calm voice was amused. "I didn't say I would kill her. I said I would either kill you now, or I would punish her in an appropriate manner, in payment for what you did to me."

Heart pounding, Gin asked, "What do you mean, punish?"

"Ah," drawled Aizen, "you'll have to leave that up to me. I promise I won't take her life… but I will… hurt her. And I'll make sure that she knows you're the cause of it." He was smiling again.

Gin closed his eyes in complete despair. He couldn't bring himself to say anything.

Aizen said, "Well? I'm waiting for your answer, Gin." He paused, then released the slender teen and spun him around so he could see his face. Gin slumped and put his face in his hands.

"Look at me," Aizen commanded, and reluctantly, Gin raised his head to gaze into the other's eyes.

"If you kill me," whispered Gin hoarsely, "what guarantee do I have you won't hurt her anyway?"

Aizen smirked. "You don't."

Gin turned his face away, in agony. It was true. The only protection he could give Rangiku was if he was alive.

Aizen whispered, still smiling, "If you choose to have me punish her instead of you, I will allow you to have contact with her. You will retain your position in the gang, but any further transgression or even a hint of disloyalty or less-than-stellar performance will earn you instant death."

Gin moaned. He could see the choice ahead of him. Aizen would hurt Rangiku, and would make very sure she knew that Gin had traded his punishment for hers. Had been willing to see her hurt in order that he might live. It would destroy any feelings Rangiku had for him.

But it would keep her alive. He knew Aizen, and if Gin made the choice to die to protect Rangiku from pain, Aizen would kill her. He would kill them both, and think nothing of it. Also, he would probably make sure that they each knew of the other's death just before he killed them; he would enjoy taunting them. If, on the other hand, Gin chose to stay alive and in the gang, Aizen's leverage over him would end the day Rangiku died. So she would stay alive, for as long as Aizen continued to find him useful.

There was only one choice for Gin in this devil's bargain. Slowly, he turned his face back toward Aizen.

"Yes. Punish her," he said.

Aizen's eyes widened in mock surprise as his smile broadened. "Oh really, Gin? You are asking me to save your own worthless skin, and instead to damage an innocent in your place?" He gave a dark laugh. "Ah, you are truly worthy of your position in Hueco Mundo. You have learned well all I have taught you. You think of yourself first, always."

Gin turned his face away. "Yes," he repeated.

"Ah, yes…" Aizen mused, almost as if to himself. "And after all, it is appropriate. You wanted me to remain… undistracted by outside influences, so I will return the favor. Just as I live on, alone, so will you." For a moment, his eyes blazed with fury, before the calm façade returned. Abruptly, he released Gin. "She will know what a snake you are."

Gin shrugged, still trembling, but striving to hold it all together. "As long as I stay alive, that's all I care about. I've already told ya that I was a snake." With an effort of will, he pulled his ever-present smile back onto his face. "An emotionless snake."

Aizen looked at him again. This time, the smile was gone from his face and it was stern and dark. "Yes. We understand each other then, Gin. Emotions such as trust or love are for weaklings. And after all, trust is synonymous with reliance. It's something the weak often mistake. People like us have no use for such a thing."

He stood up and sheathed his knife. "Come, Gin. I have work for you to do. It's time to make the world the way it should be." He turned his back on Gin and began to walk out of the room. "Oh, and do notify Kaname to do something about that," he said, not even looking back, with a careless gesture in the direction of the body on the floor.

Gin clenched his fists for a moment, and then forced himself to relax. "As you wish, Aizen-taichou," he murmured, falling into step a pace behind his master. Slowly, the insouciant-seeming smile crept back over his face, and his eyes narrowed to slits, whatever he might be feeling erased from view.

XxXxXxX

Orihime's hand shook as she read the letter the guidance counselor had given her for a second time. Then her eyes blurred with tears and she leaned her forehead against her locker for a moment.

"What's wrong, Inoue?" came a voice from behind her.

She looked up, blinking the tears away and smiling at the orange-haired youth. "Nothing's wrong, Kurosaki-kun. On the contrary. I just got a letter from MIT." She waved it at him. "I've received a scholarship from a private foundation that works with MIT. Based on my record, they're going to cover the shortfall in financial aid I was going to receive. They're going to make it a full scholarship." Her grin became wider and almost seemed to split her face. "It means I can go to college after all. I can study biochemistry like I've always wanted to."

Relief was flooding her now, relief and joy. She wasn't going to end up like the elderly waitress at the bakery. She was going to be a scientist after all. Her future had suddenly opened up for her, in the form of this single one-page letter.

Ichigo was grinning back at her, his face happier than she had seen in quite a while. "Inoue, that's terrific news! I'm so happy for you."

"Thank you, Kurosaki-kun. And what about you?" she inquired. "Where are you going to college?" She knew his father had always been adamant that Ichigo should go to college and had been saving money for it ever since the boy was born.

"Eh," Ichigo scratched the back of his head. "I'm going to be a pre-med at State. Money's a little tight for us now because the clinic just lost one of its major grants, but I'm sure we'll pull through. State has a decent biology program, and I can pay public school tuition, live at home and save money." He smiled at her. "I'm kinda sorry you're going to be so far away, but I'm really happy for you."

She laughed. "It's not that far away, and it's only for four years." She finished stuffing her books in her backpack and slid the letter in on top of them. Ichigo fell in step beside her as she began walking down the hall toward the front door.

"Inoue—" he began, and then hesitated.

She turned her eyes to look at him, mildly puzzled.

"I hope you know that I've always considered you a good friend," he said.

She smiled. "The feeling is mutual, Kurosaki-kun."

He hesitated again, rubbing the back of his head, and then said, "Um, I've always thought that it matters a lot, having that history together, knowing each other well…"

"Oh, yes," Orihime said brightly, thinking of the potential consequences when you didn't know someone's history well. She waited, but Ichigo had subsided, seemingly unable to express what he wanted to say.

They walked along in silence for a few moments. Then Orihime said, "And you were right, you know."

His head came up. "Oh?"

"I should never have gotten involved with Aizen-san."

His eyes narrowed. "Did he—"

She interrupted, saying with a resolute firming of her lips, "It's more important for me to focus on my career right now. Just like you said, it's better not to get involved with anyone now; it can be a distraction from schoolwork." She looked up at him. "I don't plan to get involved with anyone at college either. I'm going to focus exclusively on my work."

He looked surprised, and then gratified. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds smart, Inoue. I'm going to do the same."

"That's great!" she said, her voice light.

There was a pause. Then, "Inoue," he said. "Um, do you mind if I—" He broke off and ran a hand through his orange hair, causing it to stand up in uneven spikes. "I mean, uh, can I stay in touch with you after you go away?" He looked straight ahead, trying not to let his sudden awkwardness show on his face.

She looked up at him and her smile was brilliant. "Of course. I would be delighted to stay in touch with you, Kurosaki-kun."

He grinned back, his face relaxing all of a sudden.

They walked on in silence that had become companionable. Then Ichigo said, "So, which foundation gave you the scholarship?"

Orihime furrowed her brow. "I've never heard of it before, actually. It's called the Lily of the Valley Foundation." She glanced over at him. "Have you ever heard of them?"

Ichigo shook his head. "No. But I guess they must do good work, if they chose you for the scholarship, ne?" He smiled at her and she returned the smile.

They had reached the front door, and Ichigo pulled it open and held it for Orihime. The rush of air that greeted them was surprisingly balmy and scented with new growth. She murmured her thanks and they trotted down the front stairs together, breathing deeply of the sweet spring air. Overhead, the sky was a pale, clear blue; it was the first sunny day in weeks. They walked together down the long street, a warm breeze blowing their bright hair into their faces as they looked at each other and laughed. On both sides of the street, the rows of cherry trees that had been dull and gray only last week were all covered with a brand-new flourish of white blossoms.

~END~


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